


By keeping the divide

by Dissent



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Complicated Relationships, Corruption, Friends to Lovers, Illegal Activities, Long-Distance Friendship, M/M, Omega Verse, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Russian Mafia, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:00:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24605833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dissent/pseuds/Dissent
Summary: divide/dɪˈvʌɪd/nouna difference or disagreement between two groups, typically producing tension—"You're better off not knowing what kind of trouble I'm in."Those are the words resonating in Otabek's head, the words separating him from Yuri - a divide that can't be overcome. But lives can merge, and lovers always find a way.
Relationships: Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky
Comments: 70
Kudos: 31





	1. Chapter 1 - I'm drowning so deep in the darkness

A distinctive scent of bitter almonds was layered onto pale skin, causing the dark figure across the table to shrink into the black cushions further and further. The room was filled with tense animosity, an underlying threat.

"It can't go down like it did in Yekaterinburg."

"It _won't_ go down like it did in Yekaterinburg, it won't _ever_ go down like in Yekaterinburg again. If he'd listened to me back then, we wouldn't have lost half the bait to the bloodhounds. Now we gotta cover up the mess again. You gave Kostya a serious headache, didn't you?"

That sudden flash of rage was barely contained within the words, bleeding into the fist slammed onto the delicate table between them so hard the tremor in the crystal glasses refused to ebb away, sending ripples across the surface of the translucent liquid inside. The familiar vibrant sensation of the alcohol was settling into Yuri's marrow now. It was the only aspect he despised - the physical reactions, the reflexes, the instincts springing to life where they had no business existing. He wasn't capable of controlling his body to the extent he would've liked to, to the extent he pretended to. Still a slave to what primal compulsions Mother Nature had forced onto him and the rest of this rotten species millennia ago. Yuri tilted his head back.

The air caught in his lungs started to hurt, void of oxygen now, demanding to be released. He exhaled slowly. Don't let it control you. Control it. The pain felt good.

"Kostya ain't talking no more." The hooded man across the table hunched his shoulders forward, nervous. "We got him. Don't tell anyone, okay? The men will get angry if they find out. There are too many pigs sniffing around lately, we can't afford trouble within the fifth estate now."

Tapered white fingers drummed on black leather, heavily pressing against the skin beneath. Yuri looked down, rolled his head to the side and his lashes fluttered before he smoothly stood, barely in the blink of an eye. The distinguished elegance of the figure skater.

"Okay. Okay, I see. You don't get it. I want the body. In my room preferably, from where I can distribute the parts to every doghouse in Russia. Add some nice greeting cards. With love from Kostya. Fuck with the tiger, you get the claws. I eat rats for breakfast."

One of his heavy combat boots slammed onto the table, the intensity of his eyes more startling than the tip of his shoe pressing into the man's knee now. The weight of his upper body rested heavily on his own thigh.

Smiling in what appeared to be delirious gloat, Yuri swept one thumb over his lips, stifling his interlocutor's feeble attempt to speak, to protest, to bring up an excuse he could wipe away with the snap of his fingers yet did not feel up to contradict today.

 _"Ponyal?_ Get out of my sight."

Still staring, still following the man's every move, he reached down blindly for his glass and took a sip that knocked back most of its content.

—

He hadn't expected to get a message so soon after posting the new picture. Yuri's hand hovered over the phone for a moment, hesitant to once again deal with the hassle of getting rid of yet another crazed fangirl who would swear on her undying love for him and spout so much bullshit he'd cringe even just reading about it, nor did he want to be deeply disturbed by yet another picture of some Alpha's dick that was about as uncalled for as the former possible reason for the notification unconcernedly shining from his lock screen.

With a deep sigh slowly escaping his lips, Yuri typed in the passcode and his fingertip had barely withdrawn from the touchscreen when his face lit up upon the realization that this was definitely neither of the detestable options from before - although his mood soured when he saw how stinted the words were.

 **otabek-altin** _commented: You look tired._

How Otabek managed to convey the sound of his voice through written text and at the same time bring the memory of that impeccable pokerface of his to Yuri's mind, he would never understand.

Instead of wasting even more time and energy on trying to unravel the mystery that seemed to be Otabek Altin, he tightened his jaw around the bottle between his teeth and ignored the dull ache that came with the sudden strain as he typed out his reply. Private chat, this time. Otabek never had the right mind to switch there.

_I'm fine. Lilia's new regimen is wearing me out a bit, but nothing out of the ordinary. Just working for my next gold._

His eyes sprang back to the picture on his profile. Was it that obvious? Could anyone read the sleepless nights from his eyes? Well, the dark circles _beneath_ his eyes were probably telling more about that. But he had to stay active, keep his reputation as an attention-addicted teenager who lived off of likes and comments. Nobody bothered to read the open book. Nobody felt the need to make inquiries about the one without secrets, the one stripping skin and sinew for his fans, exposing every innermost thought process to millions of strangers.

The phone in his hand buzzed.

_Not that kind of tired._

So profound. Yuri couldn't and didn't want to help the endearingly annoyed exasperation that befell him.

_Care to explain?_

Somewhere behind him, he heard something slamming into the ice that certainly was not the blade of a skate. One quick glance over his shoulder clarified that it had indeed been Mila's elbow instead and even though he pitied her, the angry throb in most parts of his body reminded him that he wasn't any better. And they wondered why most figure skaters chose long-sleeved costumes and outfits, he thought with a scoff and looked down at his own bruised and swollen wrists. The discolored skin ached from just being stared at.

If it went on like that, he'd have to wear gloves as well for his next public appearance.

Nervously chewing his nails, Yuri turned back to his phone while the tip of his skate repeatedly dug into the already mangled patch of ice right before the metal barrier. The phone vibrated again in his grip.

_Exhausted. Like you need a break. Not from training, from everything._

As if a break was acceptable now, that the season had barely ended. Yuri needed to rehearse, to work on his still meager quad skills, to prepare for the next competitions. There was no time for breaks.

_It's just the regular stuff yk. My grandpa's sick, am sorting out some stuff for him._

Which wasn't even a lie, he told himself as he pocketed his phone because, with no mercy whatsoever, his eardrums were being abused by a booming voice behind him.

"Put that thing away and keep working! If I wanted you to stare at your phone during training, I'd beg on my knees for it!"

Talk about being gentle with Omegas. Yuri whipped around and snarled at Yakov, his fangs vibrating with the intensity of it.

"If I wanted to be yelled at, I'd ask for it too!" he howled back.

The echo of his words too trembled on the delicate strings of his vocal cords. It wasn't like getting used to Yakov's rough tone had been difficult; Yuri had been taking and dealing more bullshit all those years before. But now, with his coach, something suddenly was amiss. The usual authority his voice held for the men in the dark alleyways, in the smoke-choked back rooms of clubs no other Omega, even less a sixteen-year-old Omega, would get into, in the elegant halls of sophistication villas - it wouldn't work on Yakov. Poor old Yakov who had no idea that he'd have a red X on his back if Yuri demanded one.

The phone buzzed in his pocket.

Yuri Stefanovich Plisetsky, the grandson of Nikolai Plisetsky, the Tiger, didn't dare to get it out to check the reply. Yakov's burning glare from across the rink was enough to keep him from it. So, he used both hands to thrust himself away from the barrier and sped off to join Yakov and Georgi on the other side of the rink. Lilia watched from the sidelines, lips pale and curled into a frown, her eyebrows raised so high they were almost merging with her hairline, probably being silently judgmental of his posture as he halted right in front of his coach with a silver spray of ice accompanying him. But she didn't dare say anything. The rink was Yakov's territory, she had no authority over Yuri here, just like he had no right to interfere when they were at the ballet studio.

How oblivious they were, how ignorant, how naive.

To think the entire attitude of his coaches towards him stemmed from the oh so incorrect view they had of him. It almost felt ridiculous. To be their prima, their gold medalist, the boy with the big mouth who would never follow through with any of the threats he was spitting on a regular basis. To be their flawless, priced world champion.

When really he was the successor to the most infamous pakhan the bratva had brought forth into the world of organized crime yet for centuries.

And Yuri by all means intended to surpass his grandfather.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! ( ╹▽╹ ) I'm back with another fic for y'all - some real slowburn this time! I hope you find it interesting enough to stick around for the later chapters! (人 •͈ᴗ•͈) In the meantime, thanks for reading as always! ( ˘ ³˘)♥
> 
> Love,  
> Dissent


	2. Chapter 2 - I'm waiting for your touch to stop this

Trembling, bony fingers reached for the glass.

"You shouldn't have come here. Did anyone see you?"

Alyosha's lips curled around the cigarette almost scornfully, his face shrouded in shadows for only the blink of an eye as the lamp beside the armchair flickered.

"What kind of amateur do you suspect me to be? Am I not the one who stole Zanna's collection from right beneath his eyes, piece by piece even?"

"Of course that was you. I should've known that," Nikolai muttered as he brought his drink up to his mouth, smile pressed against the rim of the glass. "I should not doubt you like this. But you're not here just to watch an old man dying, are you now?"

Almost a bit indignant, Alyosha turned on the spot. The hand that carefully felt along rows and rows of dusty books stalled like a sudden arctic breeze had taken over the space between the two men, every niche, every nook and cranny of the room.

"Don't say things like that. You're not dying. Just in need of a break, that's all. You've overworked yourself lately, what did you expect? Sure, you aren't the youngest, after all, but it'll be alright if you give yourself time."

He tried for that reassuring tone, an encouraging smile, but the words came stilted and fragile as a handful of dry autumn leaves crumbling to dust in his mouth when he clenched his jaw. Coughing, Nikolai hoisted himself up and out of the armchair. His chest heaved when the fit finally ebbed away and for a moment, his hand clasped the edge of the windowsill.

"I can't give myself the time I don't have anymore, Lyosha," said the old man very softly, his voice rough and hoarse as he once again cleared his throat. "For that reason too I ask why you're here. Don't waste what little time I still have with idle chit chat. Did something go wrong?"

The answer he received was only a laugh, dry and heavy with uncried tears.

"Oh no. Nothing goes wrong anymore. That's actually why I came. Your grandson—"

"Yurochka."

"Your grandson is a pro. He's been organizing us up in a more practical way. I think we have more in line than ever. If he keeps it up like this, we'll be on a double headcount next week, triple the week after."

Nikolai breathed easier against the windowpane. Soft clouds of white crept along the glass, morphing into the absurdest shapes and figures yet dissipating just as fast.

"He's doing good, yes? My little tigrenok. Is anyone giving him a hard time?" he muttered half to himself, half to no one in particular.

Alyosha's fingers stilled on the back of a silk-bound book, lightly grazing the edge of it, pulling it out of the shelf to inspect it. His nails scraped slightly over the bronzed lines cut into the green envelope.

"If anything, he's giving _us_ a hard time. Pretty high expectations, but I guess that's the price we pay for working under a world-famous gold medalist in figure skating. Maybe I'll enroll my son in a ballet class as well. Shit seems to toughen kids more than military service." A quiet chuckle. "Never seen someone pulling allnighters so determined."

That did bring the slightest of smiles to the old man's face as he turned and looked at Alyosha.

"Yes, that is my Yurochka. Just as fierce as his—"

He stopped abruptly, almost as if the thread keeping his words strung together had been cut there and then. By the bookshelf, Alyosha's shoulders sank. From the corner of his eyes, he unsurely glanced towards Nikolai, but the old man was staring at his clenched fist. The framed photography on the side table suddenly looked like a shadow had befallen it. Only the wide smiles of a little boy and his parents still flashed as bright as ever. It seemed as if any moment now, they would abandon their picture and step into the room, laughing.

They wouldn't. Not ever again. 

Nikolai's eyes swam with tears as he tentatively touched the silver frame - barely even brushed his fingertips against it. If only he had kept them out of it. If only he had not allowed Stefan to ever contact him again after he'd given him such a darling grandson. If only nobody had known about Yuri. If only he'd reacted sooner when they had been late that day.

If only Yuri hadn't inherited that golden hair, those teal eyes. If only looking at him wouldn't remind Nikolai of what he lost, so much he sometimes could not breathe when he caught a glimpse of him passing by and for a moment, it was Stefan, his Stefan, still living, still laughing.

"I'll let him know you said Hi," Alyosha announced as he opened the door, his head turning ever so slightly as he added: "Goodnight."

The hinges creaked softly and the room drowned in silence once again. Nikolai sank back into his armchair.

—

"You look exhausted."

Otabek had rolled over onto his side. The bronzed, sun-kissed skin on his shoulders was brilliant with sweat, but his eyes had a solemn darkness to them. Yuri bit his lips. Of course, Otabek wouldn't let it go. He never did. After Barcelona, after that night they'd spent in the heated outdoor pool of their hotel, talking, jokingly dunking one another and catching snowflakes on their tongues, Yuri had known that he would never feel so at ease with anyone else who might enter his life at some point.

He hadn't thought it to be possible, but Otabek had such a deep understanding of Yuri's innermost feelings and thoughts that it hurt to think about how far apart they were now. Physically.

 _"It doesn't matter how different we are,"_ Otabek had told him with an unreadable expression, staring into the night sky that was mirrored on the rippling surface of the pool with all its stars, _"as long as our souls are made of the same material."_

No, he didn't believe in God, he didn't believe in Karma or a greater power that somehow messed with everyone's life to their liking. Instead, the concept of souls seemed so much more graspable. Just the bare essence of a being, without any mask or secrecy.

 _"Material?"_ Yuri had asked in return, wonderstruck like a child. _"What material do you think souls are made of?"_

And Otabek had laughed, for the first time since Yuri had gotten to know him, his body glistening on the outlines like he was about to fade into the starry night himself.

_"Ours? Ours are made of gold, Yura. Beautiful and resistant."_

_Wrong,_ Yuri thought dejectedly to himself as he looked at his friend. _My soul isn't strong or resistant. If I have a soul, then it's made of glass. Frail and ready to shatter any moment if I'm not careful._

"I really am not. Already told you, my grandpa's not all that well, that's all." He laughed and to his own surprise, it was a genuine laugh. "Guess I am a handful sometimes. Must be tiring to take care of me when I'm home for once during the season."

Eyes like black tourmaline sparkled back at him, such a cutting contrast to the golden skin, the light rosy color dusted along Otabek's cheeks.

"Unimaginable. After all, you're low-maintenance. I remember you to be most content in that small bar in Barcelona with a few drinks. It can't really be that hard to take care of you. You don't seem like one of those needy Omegas who hog every second of their partner's and family's time."

Yuri adjusted the pillows surrounding him for a moment, resting his chin on one of them to hide the redness on his face before he looked back at the webcam. It was almost eerie how Otabek could speak something so intimate without even having the decency to blush.

"You could be more polite, you know," Yuri grumbled into the plush of his cushion. "We're not that close yet, idiot."

As if he didn't remember how close they'd been. How Otabek had grabbed him once more to push him under and how he'd wrapped himself around the Alpha, laughing, clinging onto him to avoid another dunking. How there had been a breathless moment between them, barely more than a second, and then all Yuri knew was that the pool had started spinning around them until their lips separated again, until he was painfully aware of two warm hands on his thighs and his own arms crossed behind the Alpha's neck. How his legs had still been coiled tightly around Otabek's waist.

Again, without even blinking, the Alpha shrugged. The motion rippled through his chest, moving every muscle beneath that ungodly smooth and golden skin, like sweet wild honey. Yuri could almost smell the delicate, sugary scent. Oh, he was quite aware that he was staring, being just as disrespectful, maybe even more so, but wasn't it Otabek's fault for not wearing a shirt to bed, with only the excuse that it was summerly hot in Almaty already?

"Hypocrite," his friend quipped, tongue curling against his teeth as it did so often. "Be glad I'm progressive. My dad would spank you senseless if he caught you looking at an Alpha you aren't mated to like this."

That earned him a dismissive scowl and a slender middle finger raised into the camera.

"I'd like to see him try. Your mind's in the gutter, Beka. I've just been wondering why the fuck you're so ripped when all you do is some push-ups while I'm here lifting weights and barely gaining muscle at all."

The justification sounded weak, even in his own ears. They both knew the real reason, knew that Yuri was just scrambling to get hold of a sufficient explanation for his behavior. Yet Otabek played along, by choice oblivious to the relieved little breath slipping from the Omega's lips.

"Alpha body. Hm, gotta be able to carry my mate over the threshold of our house eventually, no?"

Heatedly flaring up, Yuri hissed back at him.

"I bet I'd be able to pick you up! Next time we meet for the GP, we're doing some stupid kitschy pair skate too and then guess who's doing the lifts! Just wait, I'll get as muscular as an Alpha until then!"

Otabek's amusement was nearly palpable, even through the screen, while he leaned forward to rest his head in his palm. The dark shimmer of his eyes was glassy now, almost unreal.

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather have your arms and legs around me and give me a koala hug?" he asked and Yuri felt the heat from before rising back into his face.

"Shut... Shut it, Altin."

It turned into a yawn mid-way. The Alpha gave a brief glance over at something by his side and fumbled with the sheets on his bed for a moment.

"Look at you, you must be exhausted. I probably should sleep too. It's midnight and I'm supposed to be going for a run at five so I'm warmed up for training at six. I think I'll just text you soon." A thoughtful expression took over his face for a moment, then he briefly smiled. "Take care of your grandpa. And yourself. My offer stands - come to Almaty and see me whenever you feel like it."

That concluded their talk. Without a Goodnight, like usual, both ended the call and Yuri slowly closed his laptop. The soft clicking sound rang in his ears for a long time. Slowly, he brought one hand up to clasp his neck as he too rolled over and pulled the comforter over his body.

They hadn't talked about the first kiss there in the pool, never.

Nor about the second or third or fourth one. Those moments, covered in water and the scent of chlorine, had always remained untouched between them, like they had been sealed away beneath glass. What had led to Otabek kissing all air from his lungs that night, half-bent over the edge of the pool as snowflakes slowly got tangled in their hair and melted from the white steam rising around them, he didn't know. Why he hadn't pulled away, he didn't know either.

The piglet was the only one he'd told (mostly because once he had been back to his room, Yuuri had burst through the door like a madman, asking if Otabek had forced himself onto Yuri), and it had effectively left him to a mildly irritating conflict of whether or not he would label those kisses enjoyable.

In the end, Yuri had come to the conclusion that indeed, there had been something like enjoyment to the situation in the pool. And that if Otabek were to do it again, he wouldn't fight back either.

Yawning, he curled up in the small hollow he'd built himself in between a few of his blankets, instinct taking over even when he was sleeping in his bed, not in the nest. The low walls were enough to placate Yuri's inner Omega to a purring heap of exhaustion. Damn, he'd kept Otabek from sleeping again. If he himself was so tired already, then how had the Alpha been keeping up with him when it was even later in Kazakhstan already? But Otabek always insisted to stay awake until Yuri was hitting the sack whenever they were on a call, for whatever reason.

Well, they couldn't all go to sleep at midnight and wake up at five bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, he told himself as he hugged one of the pillows tightly to his chest. If Otabek desperately wanted to suffer from sleep deprivation then so be it.

Smiling around the soft sigh that escaped him, Yuri tucked his face into the sheets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading, as usual, and thanks to all my loyal comment-writers, you really make my day! (灬º‿º灬)❤
> 
> Love,  
> Dissent


	3. Chapter 3 - There's smoke blinding us with goodbyes

Strutting down the hallway, Yuri barely paid attention to the two men following him closely. His focus was only on the display of his phone in his hand.

"Pyotr clocked her. She reached the Palkin half an hour ago."

"Don't worry, we have six men stationed inside, two waiting by the—'

Yuri spun around. An arrogant satisfaction amidst blatant fury was mirrored in his eyes at the sight of both grown men flinching away from him. By God, if _they_ were already scared of him, this was going to be even easier than he'd thought.

"Who's inside?"

His words came sharp, cutting, balancing on the blade of a knife. The slightest pressure would suffice to slice them in half. Despite their initial hesitation though, the men looked at each other unsurely for a moment before one of them awkwardly kicked the floor with his shoe.

"We... we had Misha with the cars and Iosef inside. I promise, I wasn't involved when they planned that!" he added, almost frantic. "But he is—"

"He is not supposed to be inside!" Yuri howled, his voice rising above the two men like the shadow of a wild animal. "You blithering idiots, why didn't you tell me sooner? She smells a rat from miles away! And overall, she knows Iosef! If this blows up, I'm sticking you all into a fucking barrel to rot and feed what's left of you to the damn strays!"

The anger in his eyes just threatened to flare up again, when the door at the end of the hallway was thrown wide open in a matter of seconds and Yuri jerked. His entire body reacted instinctively to the presence of an Alpha. Hauling a young woman in, the tall man who'd entered marched towards Yuri and shoved her to the ground before him. The hand he'd buried deep in her chestnut brown hair, encrusted with dirt and something Yuri didn't want to think about because he knew it was blood, twitched and then, her head was brutally yanked backward. The Alpha bent down to her level, brushing his lips against her ear and even though her hands were tied and so were her legs, the woman tried to avoid his touch, sobbing into the gag with wide and teary eyes.

"Bare your throat when the Ice Tiger is looking at you," he said almost softly and dragged her head back further and further. "You have no right to see his face."

Yuri could've screamed in relief. Instead, he attempted to smooth out his expression, but he was aware that Alyosha knew it was just a matter of how close his rage was seething to the surface.

"Lyosha. What are you doing here?"

"My job," the Alpha shot back, effortlessly whipping a pack of cigarettes from the chest pocket of his leather jacket with just one hand. "Heard that you were looking for this whore and decided to step in before those bastards here could ruin anything."

His contemptuous glare was directed at the men who'd shuffled in behind him, looking more than just embarrassed. Yuri exhaled slowly through his nose. The tension from before dissipated, only a small rest remained. If Alyosha had taken care of everything, he had nothing to be concerned about anymore. Still, there was the woman on the floor and he couldn't allow his reputation to crumble like this. Running one hand over his face, he tried to take deeper breaths.

"I want her in the cage. Ten minutes. I'll be down after a drink."

A drink he badly needed.

But just as he turned to enter the salon, Alyosha's hand was on his arm. Yuri slowly raised one brow, pointedly dragging it out as he glowered at the Alpha behind him. Even the men behind them unsurely retreated at the coldness in his eyes.

"Let me come with you. I need to talk to you. Under four eyes preferably," Alyosha said, a certain pressing urgency in his voice.

Heaving a deep sigh, Yuri gestured towards the black door and waited for the man to open it before he sauntered inside. The well-stocked liquor cabinet behind the bar was singing its sweet siren's song to him, but he resisted the urge and instead sank onto one of the chaise lounges by the wall.

"Make me a Blue Angel. One shot of vodka, though. I can't be drunk down there or I won't ever make it back up the stairs."

A throbbing soreness behind his eyes made him scrunch up his nose a bit while he massaged his temples. Not bothering to try and talk him out of it, Alyosha stepped behind the counter and turned the decorative key that kept the cabinet locked.

"You should cut down on the alcohol anyway." His words weren't an accusation nor a reprimand, just a simple statement. "What are you going to do with her? I didn't get her here to be killed. There are people out there who would be rather displeased upon hearing she died."

With the trained hands of a bartender, he tilted the curaçao bottle and pulled it back up swiftly, a silvery-blue arc of liquid spilling into the shaker. Yuri licked his lips. Suddenly, they felt dry and cracked.

"I won't kill her."

Alyosha's jaw twitched.

"Torture her? We have some guys who are crazy about it. Might get a penny or two out of it if you make it a red room event. She's pretty, too."

The muscles in his arms flexed as he twirled the shaker one last time and finally opened it to fill Yuri's drink into a nearby glass. Before he handed him the cocktail though, he took a quick sip himself. Yuri stuck his tongue out and let the sweet liquid run down his throat once the cool stem of the glass was in his hand. The drink felt like heaven, despite it being not yet able to quell the longing for something Yuri couldn't quite put his finger on.

"I'm not much one for that. Besides, we would just lose customers if we couldn't follow through to a good end. You said it yourself, we can't kill her. Those sick fucks in the red rooms would either demand torture that would end her sooner or later or refuse to pay if we don't finish her off," he muttered more to himself than to Alyosha.

That earned him an agreeing tilt of the Alpha's head. As he slowly savored his cocktail, Yuri rolled onto his stomach with a soft little noise, dropping one arm over the edge of the plush red cushioning.

"You wanted to talk to me."

"Your grandfather isn't doing too well," Alyosha said. "I think he won't live much longer. What are you going to do?"

Teal eyes met his own hazel ones, incredulous as they widened. The silent question was answered with an uncomfortable shrug.

"I mean. He doesn't want you in the bratva, he's never wanted you here. Your head is stuck in a world of glitter, sparkles and ballet. It's a miracle everything has been going so well until now. I'm just asking if you realize that you won't be doing him or yourself any favor if you keep doing this. There is no way you will be able to keep up your skating career if you really enter the bratva in his place."

Yuri sat up slowly, his knuckles protruding sharply as he clutched the edge of the chaise lounge. His lean body shook with a sound that broke from deep within his lungs, dark and dangerous, easily causing Alyosha to recede to a compliant heap of usually so tough Alpha.

"Don't ever," Yuri's voice fluttered slightly, " don't ever speak to me in such a manner again. Deda wants me here. He knows that I can do this. He just _knows_ I can do it. I can handle the bratva and my skating. I'm not stupid. And I'm still able to take more shit than you pathetic excuses will ever be! Admit it, you're just fucking pissed Deda has more confidence in me than in you! That an Omega is more worth to him than an Alpha! You wanted to be the one following him to the top, that's all! Miss me with your shit, I know you don't give a single fuck about my career! You don't give a single fuck about _me!"_

The man before him, already on the verge of baring his throat, seemed to snap out of his momentary stupor once those words were past Yuri's lips. Alyosha lunged forward and caught his wrist in a vice grip.

"Give me a break! I never said any of that and you know it isn't true!" he barked angrily. "Will you calm down already? If I wanted you out of the way, I would've found a way until now! I could claim you right now and nobody would care if I took over everything here, hell, I could fucking kill you if I wanted to! But I want neither of that because I _do_ give a fuck about you! Isn't me taking literally even the tiniest outside task from you some kind of indicator that I don't want anything to happen to you? Why do you think I won't let anyone near you but myself and some of the people I trust? Because if things go wrong, they won't be able to trace it back to you!"

His chest heaved from the sudden outburst and only when Alyosha caught Yuri staring at his bared fangs, he retreated, almost ashamed of his own behavior. Only the flaring bruise around the Omega's wrist betrayed how brutal he'd been just now and his face paled in terror.

"Oh God, Yurik. Oh God. I didn't want that. Let me see."

Immediately, his hands very gently clasped Yuri's arm and turned it over to inspect the reddened skin. Why had he acted up like that? All he'd wanted was to make himself clear, he hadn't meant to hurt Yuri, not at all.

The Omega trembled slightly in his hold, but Alyosha shushed him, a comforting purr vibrating deep in his body as he pulled Yuri over to the bar. His hand closed around one of the ice cubes from the cooler and he gradually rubbed it along the forming bruise.

"That really wasn't what I wanted. I'm so sorry, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have reacted like that. It's just—"

His voice broke down for an agonizingly long moment, a moment that just as well could've been an eternity. A painful eternity. At least until Yuri pulled his arm back, clutched his wrist and huffed.

"You're still the same idiot as back then. For fuck's sake, Lyosha. Get a grip on yourself, will you?"

He leaned against the counter, hips jutting slightly and in the presence of any other person, it would've been a more than daring gesture, but this was Alyosha and Yuri couldn't remember the last time he'd seen an Alpha crawl in the dirt before him to such an extent. With his drink spilled, his wrist still aching faintly and a woman he had no idea what to do with two floors deeper, the evening was officially ruined.

"I don't want to see you again tonight," he said over his shoulder. "Beat it to some bar, and take some of the guys with you. They're getting a bit gutsy when there ain't nobody else to beat up but eachother."

Like a puppy being kicked out in the rain, Alyosha ducked his head down with the most heartbroken whine.

"You're choosing another Alpha's company over mine? How cruel, Yurik!"

The thought appeared like lightning from out of the blue and Yuri's lips twitched, barely hinting at the shadow of a smile.

"Cruel, yes. Nevermind. No bar for you. I have a new task that needs to be executed without any delay, preferably by someone who doesn't mess up as much as those cavemen."

He could have sworn Alyosha sprouted ears and a wagging tail there and then, anticipating his next words, eager to do just what Yuri would demand. It was almost bizarre to see him like this.

"Take Pyotr and a few of the Omegas. He knows her entire life better than herself. I want you to find this woman's Alpha and discreetly invite them here. Alive. Understood?" Yuri asked.

"Of course, that's a walk in the park. A penny for your thoughts - what kind of sinister plan did you just come up with?"

But the Omega was already at the door.

"You'll see. Bye."

With that, he slipped out into the hallway, one hand in the pocket of his jacket. A light buzz against his palm informed him about an incoming call. Yuri whipped his phone out and stared at the caller ID for a second before swiping right across the screen. Might as well answer it while he still had the time.

"Beka."

"Yuri."

He furrowed his brows as his shoulders hit the wall behind him.

"No Yura today?" he teased, but it sounded about as half-assed as he meant it.

"You haven't answered my messages in days."

Otabek sounded reproachful, almost offended, a tone that didn't suit his voice even in the slightest how Yuri promptly decided once those words hit him. Averting his eyes, he switched the phone to his other hand and began to tug on the zipper of his jeans pocket.

"I—... Sorry. I'm so busy lately, I sometimes don't have a clue whether I'm coming or going. I really didn't mean to ignore you," he muttered, but it only earned him another heavy moment of complete silence.

Then, all of a sudden, Otabek sighed deeply, as if a massive weight had been taken from him that very instance.

"I was so worried something might have happened to your grandfather and you weren't responding because of that." His voice softened. "Yura. Come to Kazakhstan for a while. Only for a week or two, to take your mind off all the stuff going on at home." 

Yes, certainly he could abandon the bratva right now for a visit at his friend's house in another country on the other half of the damn continent and have everyone supervise themselves for some time. Yuri frowned.

"You think I will be calmer hundreds of miles away from Deda? I'd never forgive myself if I took your invitation and something happened here while I'm gone."

"But it's better to live on a nerve-wracking edge all the time in addition to your training and whatever work your grandfather left you to take care of? We're all worried, Yura. I talked to Viktor and he says he barely sees you at the rink anymore and if you're there for once, you look like a walking corpse. If you're not coming to Kazakhstan, at least move in with Viktor and Yuuri for a while."

And he'd thought Otabek was one of the few people who really knew him. Why he even bothered to keep listening to that patronizing Alpha tone was a mystery within itself.

"I have an important thing going on right now," Yuri said stiffly.

Astonished silence on the other end of the line, then a disbelieving laugh.

"It's gotta be almost midnight in Russia!"

Yuri lowered the phone. His finger hovered over the red button for a moment, then he pressed down.

"Goodbye, Beka."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because reasons this chapter is early, I'll see how fast I get the next one done, maybe I'll get the rhythm down from 4 days to 3 instead! (◍•ᴗ•◍)❤ Thanks for reading, everyone! ( ˘ ³˘)♥
> 
> Love,  
> Dissent


	4. Chapter 4 - 'Cause this feeling's different and I know

"I heard you talking. Who offered you a holiday?"

Casually. Like he wasn't currently busy with the task of shackling a man twice his size to a chair. Yuri watched in unwavering disinterest, his eyes darting from Alyosha to the unconscious Alpha to the syringe by the side.

"If you eavesdrop on me one more time, I'm cutting off your cock and balls and serving them for dinner," he said calmly before a quiet scowl tugged at his features. "Hold up, that's not even enough to feed one of the guys. My mistake."

Dripping blood and water on the floor, smelling like rain and sweat and violence, Alyosha laughed up at him from his spot on the floor. His palms were roughed up by the hemp rope, the scraped skin in a bright red contrast to his nearly white arms as he crossed them.

"Are you implying everyone is hungry for my cock or would that be just you, who is obviously very well informed and concerned about its size?"

The flushed face of the little Omega was worth more than his embarrassed silence. Alyosha chuckled before his hands found Yuri's shoulders and squeezed them lightly.

"Don't blush at me, it just makes you cuter. I'm joking, can you tell?" he asked softly. "You're like my little brother. There's no way I could ever think of you like _that."_

Yuri rolled his eyes and shoved the Alpha's hands off of him as he turned around. His skin was itching beneath the shirt where Alyosha had touched him and he had to resist the urge to tear the fabric off, a desperate restlessness suddenly surging up within him. He needed a shower after this.

"Just because you know you'd have your jaw broken the second you lay your hands on me," shot Yuri back without a moment wasted.

Across the room, the stranger slowly stirred in his restraints and almost immediately, Alyosha was shielding Yuri from him with his body. Over his shoulder, he threw the Omega a grim look.

"You should leave now," he said. "I don't want you to be here once he's coherent again. You could get hurt. Take over the woman, I'll handle this guy."

Before his vanity could get the better of him, Yuri nodded and turned on his heel to march over to the door and open it. Still, his hand lingered on the handle. He glanced back at Alyosha, but the words that had sounded so clear and straightforward in his head tasted weird on his tongue now. Yuri swallowed them back down.

His conscience was frail today, he didn't need to add another reason for remorse. Telling Otabek off like that had already been a true masterpiece. If Alyosha got mad at him too, he was in a damn dilemma. Two irritated Alphas were too much to handle for him tonight, Yuri thought, exhausted. Otabek would surely not text him for a few days after this.

Fucking hell.

This wasn't what Yuri had wanted. For them all to worry about him like that. Viktor was an incurably nosy bastard who loved nothing more than to stick his nose into other people's affairs until he either achieved what he wanted or got in trouble for it. In this case, Yuri was certain, it would end with the latter. There was no way the bratva would allow a chatterbox like Viktor to know about anything going on in the fifth estate. Being the idiot he was, he would probably go and hold an entire press conference just to talk about Yuri's position in the organized crime scene of Russia.

Slamming the door behind him, the young Omega instead kicked another one open and entered with long, confident strides. Handcuffed and gagged, the woman looked even more pitiful than before in the harsh neon light from the ceiling that revealed every scrap, every bruise and cut on her battered body. Her eyes were open though, although one was swollen and she could barely focus on anything within her field of vision. Yuri made a point of staying to the side of the room, his heels clicking on the floor - the only sound giving away his position.

"I see my Alphas were quite rough on you." He stopped, one hand lightly resting on his hips. "That's a shame. I bet you aren't bad looking without that blood all over your hair and face."

The soft tone of his voice was a steady flow, rich and dizzying like sweet wine in the heat of a summer day in August. His entire being screamed Omega, from the saccharine fragrance in his scent to the purr. Obviously, the woman tried to talk into her gag, writhed in her shackles to free herself from them, even though the cold metal had already begun to bite into her wrists.

Yuri watched in silent amusement.

"I've come to notice that people tend to resist in the most desperate of situations. Is this how you think you will escape from here?" he asked with genuine curiosity mingling into his words. "Even if you got out of the handcuffs, there are people all around the house to capture you and bring you back. If we're being honest, you'd probably not make it out of this room without a bullet between your eyes."

For a moment, the woman stayed as tense as earlier, but the longer Yuri spoke, the more she slackened into her bonds until her body hung limp and pathetic on the chair. The Omega behind her had to repress a satisfied little noise.

"See, we're getting along. You don't want a bullet in your head and I don't want to waste one on someone like you. Now, you're probably not surprised that someone eventually took you down. You have been carrying some pretty valuable information, haven't you?"

The cold muzzle of his revolver that was pressed against the woman's chin tilted it up, uncomfortably straining the muscle of her neck until a shrill, pained whine broke from her throat. Tears slipped from her lashes, trembling on the sickly pale skin beneath. Yuri's hand slowly moved to the buckle of the gag, toying with the silver frame.

"You know you're out of here the second you give me what I want," he said almost apologetically as he tightened the belt. The corners of her mouth were cracked and bloody. "And I really want only that small bit of knowledge in this pretty head of yours. Do you think you can do that?"

Her subtle shifting had become a full-on struggle, the stifled sounds from before terrified sobs and futile cries for help. How pathetic. Yuri clicked his tongue, impatience getting the better of him too fast like usual.

"Obviously you have no idea what kind of deal you're refusing there."

His bones hurt from the rage that suddenly seized him, the rage that drove his finger to the trigger and the bullet deep into her knee. Rapid, shallow breaths trembled in his lungs as Yuri lowered the gun. The pain combusting into every last cell of his body was inhumane and he barely could resist the urge to just submit and double over in agony. The bullet could just as well have hit himself.

_Why are you leaving me alone like this?_

A disgusting stench of blood hung in the air, enough to worsen Yuri's terrible nausea to unbearable sickness. If he could, he'd abandon the room now and go home. Curl up in his nest and just die. Leave this rotten world to its own business. The buckle of the gag clattered softly on the ground as he opened it with unsteady fingers.

Immediately, the woman's heavy breathing rang in his ears and he wished he wouldn't have done that.

"Are you going to cooperate or not? Decide fast before the next bullet hits higher."

She shook her head, still sobbing violently.

"I promised... I promised!" Her voice was a hoarse cry of anger. "I... I can't!"

"I thought you might say that." Yuri's hand shot over to the dark cloth that covered the two-way mirror. He felt like an artist proudly revealing his latest masterpiece as the fabric fell. The sight he was met with was delicious. "Isn't this a lovely spectacle? What irony that your mighty Alpha is at the mercy of an Omega now."

There was nothing he could've wished for more than to see her light up with panic like this, the unexpected thrill almost sickening to himself. Her eyes widened, she stared at the glass, and then her lips formed a name, silent at first, growing into a full-blown scream.

"Sam! Sam, oh God, Sam!"

Ah.

A foreigner. Yuri crossed his arms to hide the tremble in his hands.

"He can't hear you," he said casually, his gaze fixated on the Alpha who was awake now, weakly turning his head, calling various names, testing the restraints. "There is no microphone on our side of the room. You will be able to witness everything going on in the other half, but he isn't aware you're here."

His eyes were glassy, almost feverish as he gaped at the mirror, obviously shocked at the dried blood splattered all across his face. He was probably wondering if it was his own. If only it were, Yuri found himself thinking, lips twisting into a smile he hadn't meant to smile.

"Katya?"

He sounded still weak, still so very confused.

"Sam," the woman sobbed again, weaker this time. "Sam, no, not Sam, don't hurt him, oh please no, not Sam, not him, no, no, please—"

"Hurt him?" His voice was all but feigned surprise, almost compassion. Hands stroked the woman's hair from behind. "What kind of monster do you take me for? No, we're not hurting him, darling, on the contrary. He's going to feel very good in no time, and you're even allowed to watch. Hopefully, you're into voyeurism or this is going to be awkward."

He grinned with too many teeth showing. For all he knew, the aphrodisiac should kick soon enough. In the corner of the room, he saw Alyosha leaning against the wall. A subtle anticipation crept down his neck. There was something sinister about the way he held the receiver up to his mouth, how his mouth curled so prettily around the words and into the microphone, how he released the button with a snap. The Alpha tried to turn, desperate in his search for the one who'd spoken, but Alyosha was once again silent and motionless in the shadows.

At least until the door creaked open.

Yuri hadn't seen the two Omegas before. Probably some of the shestyorka. People he didn't have anything to do with after all. They were gorgeous, he brought himself to confess. A young man and a girl, both probably in their early twenties. Not a day older than twenty-five, if Yuri had to guess.

Something inside of him fluttered enthusiastically as they slid over to the chair, barely touching the blood-slicked floor but very much touching the man tied to the chair now violently struggling, yelling, screaming himself hoarse - sounds that melted into shuddering moans and gasps. Beside him, the woman gave a stifled sob. Yuri's eyes were firmly glued to the mirror, every noise emanating from the microphones causing a burst of morbid delight within him.

"I'll tell you everything" she wheezed. "I'll talk, I'll give you everything you want, make them go away, make them leave!"

He couldn't remember the last time he had felt so satisfied and disgusted in the same breath.

—

Yuri only reluctantly lowered his glass back down. An odd lightheadedness wreaked havoc behind his burning eyelids.

"Here. Drink some of this instead," a voice suddenly derailed his sinister train of thought and then, the drink in his hand was swapped out for a water bottle.

He scowled up at Alyosha, threatening to bare his fangs, but the Alpha squeezed his hand around the bottle very resolutely.

"No more alcohol for you tonight. I already let you drink more than you can handle. Nikolai will kill me if he ever finds out I'm allowing you into his liquor stash."

That reprimanding, patronizing tone again.

"Why do you always think you need to take care of me?" he bellowed. "Why do you always feel responsible for my choices? If I say I _want_ a drink, I will _get_ a drink, and if it isn't from you, then I'm going to get it from someone else! Be fucking glad I stayed here where you can watch how much I'm drinking and didn't go out to some fucking club where every stoned or plastered Alpha can have a go at me!"

In Alyosha's gaze, two forces were desperately clashing.

"You're sixteen! Someone ought to make sure you're not going overboard just because you can, Yurik! There's a difference between being allowed to have seven drinks and actually having them, when will you get that?" he argued heatedly.

The water bottle slammed against his cheek, leaving behind bruised and aching skin as it innocently clattered to the floor. Yuri strode past him and out the door, leaving nothing but Alyosha with a disbelieving expression and a whiff of bitter almond in the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, next chapter a day early! (人 •͈ᴗ•͈) As always, thank you all for reading and for your lovely comments! ( ˘ ³˘)♥
> 
> Love,  
> Dissent


	5. Chapter 5 - I've staggered so long that it can't go

Yakov's shoe had barely touched the linoleum floor when out of the office burst a whirlwind of silver hair and fury.

"We need to talk."

Sharp, blue eyes were sparking ember across his pale skin and the elderly man could only watch as one Viktor Nikiforov screeched to a halt before him, flushed and obviously not in the mood for a long holdup. Yakov grunted.

"Isn't that what you say to your husband when you find out he's cheating on you while you're at the rink?"

Add insult to injury.

Viktor nearly exploded with outrage, his chest heaving as he sucked in a sharp breath and rested both hands on his hips.

"You're horrible, Yakov! Yuuri would never! Don't accuse him of things like that or I promise I will cry and I won't stop until you take it back. No, I mean it. I have to talk to you."

The sinister scowl on his face only darkened by the second and even though Yakov only barely held back a groan, Viktor pursued him into the office, towering over him as his former coach slowly sank into the chair behind the desk and looked back at him in exhausted exasperation.

"Then tell me. What's bothering you?" he asked, more out of courtesy than real interest.

It was probably just the way the ice had been reconditioned, or how his new sponsors wanted him to wear stuff he didn't like, or how unfair Yuuri was when he demanded him to go to training even when he had the sniffles.

"Yurio."

Expectantly, Viktor stared across the desk. That did come as a surprise. Clearing his throat, his interest piqued, Yakov leaned forward and rested both elbows on the edge of the bureau.

"Yuri... Yuri is bothering you?" he asked, unable to hide the curiosity in his voice. "How come?"

"No!" Viktor exclaimed. "No, he's not— Ugh, okay, listen. He's acting weird. There's something odd about him. Haven't you seen him skate lately? Or have you even looked at him? He's dead tired, every time he stops for a break someone has to shove him back onto the ice or he'll nap on the nearest bench. And on Sunday, when we invited him over for lunch, he didn't even show up. Yakov, I'm worried."

His hand slammed down onto the wooden tabletop, underlining his words. In the eyes of his coach now flickered a hint of concern as well. Well, he had noticed Yuri slacking off a bit lately, but since the boy mostly didn't need any supervision, there had been no memorable incident - at least from his perspective.

Yakov glanced over at the small window that allowed him to oversee the entire rink, but to his dismay, only Mila and some of the younger girls were present. Georgi had excused himself for the week, he had relatives in town and wanted to show them around a bit. No trace of Yuri. No blond brat silently warming up in a secluded corner, avoiding the other skaters as best as possible.

"See? He's late. Again," Viktor chimed from behind him and instinctively, Yakov looked at the clock above the door.

It was eight twenty and Yuri still hadn't shown up. Usually, he waited in the parking lot before the janitor had even unlocked the front door. Concern tightened Yakov's throat as he swallowed.

"Have you called him?"

"Called him twice, texted him four times. Yakov, you have to talk to him. He won't listen to me, maybe if he sees you're worried about him too, he will realize that we're all aware of that new attitude of his."

There was a thundering crash when the door out front fell shut and someone unhurriedly dragged themselves over to the sideline, only to flop down over the metal barrier. Viktor jumped. Within seconds, he was out of the office and by the little Omega's side.

"Yurio, darling," he cooed softly. "Are you feeling better today?"

The dark shadows in and around Yuri's eyes should have been enough of an answer, a testimony to yet another sleepless night. Before he could do as much as loosely wrap one arm around the slender shoulders of the Omega, Yuri shoved him back, his head lowered, his fangs bared and his lips trembling.

"Don't touch me, old man. Don't. I don't want you touching me. Just stay away."

Like an injured animal retreating from the huntsman, he fled to the furthest bench, still wary of Viktor's every move, completely oblivious to the pain in those blue eyes that resembled his own so much.

The shove hadn't hurt.

The words had.

Something had happened to Yuri, and Viktor could do nothing but watch as his little boy, the same boy who'd taken gold at the GPF, who had the press all up in his face for the performance he delivered, for his skill and grace and the complexity of his programs, almost kissed the ice with his forehead the second he set foot on it.

—

The exhaustion was settled deep within his bones by now and no matter how many cups of coffee he downed before even remembering his own name in the morning, Yuri couldn't bring himself to follow through with his usual routine anymore. All morning at the rink, the afternoon at Lilia's studio, the entire night trying to deal with Alyosha and the business of the bratva he had not the palest idea of at times were really taking their toll on him.

But that all would've been bearable if Deda wasn't getting worse by the day.

Lately, even getting up from his bed had caused him too much pain and Yuri could do nothing but sit by and watch. He'd called various specialists, no matter the cost, but all they ever did was shrug, prescribe some stronger medication against the pain and gently tell him that he should just come to accept it. Nikolai was an old man, they said, and at his age, it was unlikely to almost impossible that he would recover and then they left him like that as if it would magically bring him to not try anything in his might to save the only person left that still loved him.

The prospect of losing Deda haunted him day and night. Of losing this tall, gentle man he remembered always stopping by for lunch on Sunday after church, bringing him little gifts and candy bars every time he visited, the one who'd let him watch TV until late into the night when Mama and Papa had been on a date, the one who'd picked him up and shushed him that terrible night he only remembered gunshots from and after that, it had always been him and Deda.

How could he possibly give up on the only one who cared about him?

Yuri lifted his head from the hard bedframe for a brief moment. His eyes wandered over to Deda's face, distorted with pain, but his chest was still rising and falling slowly. Reassured, the young Omega settled back down.

"Yurochka." The hoarse whisper made him perk up again not seconds later.

"Yeah?" he asked in return, unable to fight the drowsiness out of his voice. He was so tired, so damn tired, he thought desperately.

"Go to sleep."

As best as his exhaustion would let him, Yuri sat up and shook his head, although the tiniest movement made him dizzy.

"No, no! I'm fine, I'm okay, I can stay awake for a bit longer," he slurred.

A heavy hand laid itself upon his arm, gently stroking it with trembling fingers. Yuri raised his gaze. Tears burned in his eyes, hot and heavy in his lashes as he tried to blink them away. Deda smiled back at him ever so softly, even through the obvious pain.

"My sweet little Yurochka. Just like your father."

His sleeve slipped, the reddened and inked skin beneath aching, throbbing. A pain he hadn't felt ever in his life, and now it ate away at both his wrists.

"Who did them?" Deda asked and his voice scraped across Yuri's nerves like sandpaper.

The answer shriveled on on his tongue, but then he choked it out forcefully, only to rid himself of the pain, to soothe the apparent concern in those dull, greyish-blue eyes - a paled and watered-down version of his own.

"Lyosha was with me."

Deda's breath shuddered for a moment.

"That's good. That's good. Show them to me."

Two tigers curled towards his palms, their tails lashing along his forearms in a blur of white and black and orange. The touch of latex-gloved hands on his now raw and abused skin still lingered as Deda reverently ran his hand over it.

"You did it?"

Yuri's eyes flashed back, dangerous and aware like a pit viper targeting its prey, ready to leap and strike.

"I gave the orders. She wasn't significant. He was useless. I set a good example."

Deda fell back into the pillows piled up on the top half of his bed, breathing easier.

—

He danced with more vigor and determination than usual, and still, Lilia managed to point out mistakes he'd never made before, the silver ribbon in her hands straining as she held it firm and her mouth turned into a dangerously thin line.

"You're curling your toes again, Plisetsky." She always called him Plisetsky during practice, to create the distance they needed as a coach and trainee. "It makes you overuse your lower leg muscles to take over pointe work. If you keep it up like this, you can retire in five months due to several torn ligaments."

She marched around him and Yuri gritted his teeth as he held the tension for five more seconds and finally slackened, breathing heavily into the stuffed air of the dance studio. Lilia slapped her palm with the ribbon to signal that break was over.

"Plie in first position."

He obeyed, although his legs were shaking from exertion and again, the critic started to hail down on him.

"This isn't your true turn. Knees over your feet. Plisetsky, you're rolling your ankles. Could you at least try not to stand here like an absolute novice? You are to compete in another season next fall and yet your training shows no progress. I expect this to change or you can look for someone else who is willing to teach a beginner how to dance ballet," Lilia said harshly before turning on her heel and leaving the room with fluid steps.

Yuri envied the grace she seemed to have on and off the stage. Panting harshly into the quiet of the studio, he sank down to the floor. The bottle of water he kept on the window sill felt too far away and so Yuri just pressed his forehead to the polished parquet and tried to ease his breathing. His body ached, his lungs ached, his head ached.

Who the fuck did Lilia think she was? It wasn't like he failed to please her for fun and games!

Yuri barely managed to bite the collar of his sweat-soaked shirt before the scream broke from his sore throat, turning into a sob mid-way and into a weak whimper as it faded.

Lilia only returned to check on him when he had already cried himself to sleep on the hard wooden floor of the dance studio, but she didn't comment on the dry trails of salt left on his cheeks, just handed him a wet towel to clean his face and sent him home with a light squeeze of his shoulder.

Every stretch of darkness between two street lamps was enough to make Yuri break into a cold sweat, to make the fine hair on the back of his neck rise, to make him quicken his steps until he'd reached the safety of the next beam of light to the point where he was full-on sprinting down the sidewalk, eyes wide with terror and every shadow seemed to creep up on him with bared fangs and serpentine leers and whispered words that dripped cold fear into his guts.

Yuri's steps were pounding the rhythm to the whispers as he darted up the stairs to the apartment and literally fled inside with his heart beating so hard in his chest he thought he felt his ribs breaking. Any moment now, it would burst out of him in a spray of blood and then this hellish misery would be over and he would be able to forget about that terrible letter and the picture and everything.

Sadly, Yuri Plisetsky was an athlete and his pulse could go from a damn two hundred back to fifty-five in less than a minute.

Only to skyrocket again to over one thousand beats per minute when he took out his phone to check if Otabek had finally, _finally_ texted him again, had left a message or at least just posted on his Instagram. Still, there was nothing. He swallowed the tears down until he was nauseous and went to bed without dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 5 for me good ol' lads and lasses! ⁽⁽ଘ( ˊᵕˋ )ଓ⁾⁾ Thanks so much for all your support, you guys are the most amazing people out there! ( ˘ ³˘)♥
> 
> Love,  
> Dissent


	6. Chapter 6 - Alleviate me, I'll be fine in time

"Since when do you wear your gloves to town?"

Mila's question found him unprepared and in no way ready to give an answer that would satisfy this nuisance of a woman. So, Yuri just shrugged and clutched his coffee tighter as they strolled down to the exit, bags thrown over their shoulders.

"Hm. 'S cold. Why not." His voice didn't even bother to rise and make it a question.

Her plush, cerise lips formed the pout that caused most Omegas to melt into a puddle of goo at her feet, with puppy eyes added for that perfect result.

"Yuraaaa. It's spring and it isn't cold enough for gloves at all. Today's just a bit rainy. Think of a better excuse or tell me the truth. We all see something is up with you. If you'd just talk to one of us! Have we ever disappointed you?"

More often than I can count, Yuri was tempted to say as he shuddered and tried to wrap the jacket tighter around himself but just ended up closing the zipper all the way to tuck his face into the collar.

_Just a bit rainy._

What a nice thing to call this fucking pestilence of sky water that had befallen Saint Petersburg lately. The rain was pouring as if heaven itself desired to drown all living things. This wasn't the usual drizzle springtime brought around occasionally, this was a full-on flood. Yuri looked through the window at the grey and empty streets, only dotted here and there with umbrella-carrying people in a hurry to get out of the rain.

He halted in front of the door that would lead them outside the building. Mila eyed him from the side, then she huffed gently.

"Forgot your umbrella, huh? That's okay, we can share mine. I'll walk you home."

Her hand pushed against the handle and the former muffled sound of rain turned into a heavy gushing, the water slammed onto the asphalt with such force that the drops consistently bounced back up.

Standing by the sidewalk was a young man, clad in a dark coat and high boots that contrasted almost crudely with his white dress shirt. The shadow of the black umbrella and the smoke from a cigarette obscured his face, but Mila immediately stood at attention. Her body went rigid at the mere sight of this dubious guy who had the guts to stare back at her calmly before extending one hand.

She had just collected enough of herself to bark at him to fuck off, never show his face around here again, to keep away from her and Yuri, when the warm presence - previously close to her side - suddenly slipped away and out into the rain.

Towards this stranger who seemed to know Yuri and held enough of his trust for him to simply abandon his best friend. The fine hair on Mila's neck was rising, an uncomfortable chill ran down her arms. She lunged to catch Yuri by the wrist.

"Yura, no!"

His pained hiss was interrupted by a dark, resolute growl and a warm hand easing the woman's grip on the Omega between them.

"Don't touch him. Yurik, come."

That same hand was now protectively, almost possessively resting upon Yuri's slender shoulder and all Mila could do was watch as her friend followed this dark Alpha without questioning his sudden appearance.

"Don't go with him!" she cried out, tears of frustration pooling in her eyes. "Yura! What are you doing? Yura, no! Who is this guy? Yuri!"

He glanced back only once, but nothing else than a disinterested numbness was mirrored in his gaze. Then, Yuri turned again and the stranger gently led him down the street, now coiling his arm around the Omega's waist. Mila stood in the pouring rain, trembling and furious and crying before she broke from her daze and rushed back inside.

Viktor was still there, humming quietly as he fumbled with his stuff that was spread out on the bench before him. A surprised little noise escaped him when a soaking wet Mila slammed into him.

"Go after him, now! Someone took Yuri with them!"

The skates he'd just tied together and had wanted to carefully place inside his bag were dropped to the floor and then, the silver Alpha was out the door at once. A heavy wall of rain, like a grey curtain draped all across the streets, made it hard to see, and try as he might, he couldn't pick up on the scent of bitter almonds anymore.

The water had washed it away the second Yuri had left. Cursing, he stared out into the rain, but the two dark silhouettes had already disappeared towards one of the parked cars.

—

The warm familiarity of Alyosha's McLaren soothed Yuri to the point he dozed off, curled against the soft seat. Once he'd noticed the Omega was trembling, Alyosha had stripped his coat and carefully covered Yuri with it.

"See, now it's going to be better in no time," he said while turning the key. "Are you really that cold? I know it's been raining for a few days and it has cooled down, but I've seen you out in a tank top in worse weather."

Concerned, his eyes slid to the side for a moment only, then he concentrated on the street before them. Yuri instead just burrowed himself deeper in the fabric of the Alpha's coat, but the additional warmth did little to stop any of the ice cold shivers that wrecked his entire body.

"D-Don't... don't know," he choked out weakly, "it's just so... so fucking _cold."_

Alyosha reached out one hand and gently pressed the back of it against Yuri's forehead. The heat radiating from it was almost inhumane.

"You have a fever. There's no way I'm letting you go to your ballet class this afternoon in such a condition. Call your teacher now and explain to her that you're sick and cannot attend class today," he demanded, fumbled with his pocket for a moment, and finally handed Yuri his phone.

"Lilia will kill me if I don't show up. I've been doing so bad lately, she is going to skin me alive for skipping class!"

It did little to even knock at Alyosha's firm decision. Even though he was still looking at the street ahead, something about him suddenly had that reprimanding aura again. And this time, Yuri was too exhausted to even try and revolt.

"If you're not calling her, I am. This afternoon you will stay home and have some tea and take some damn medicine or I swear I will tie you to your couch and spoon-feed you until you stop trembling in twenty-degree weather," the Alpha stated. "My code is one, nine, three, three. Call her."

Defeated, Yuri unlocked the phone. Behind the plain black lock screen, he found a picture he'd never seen before, although Deda kept nearly every photography of Alyosha in the family album.

"Who's the girl?" he asked quietly.

 _She's gorgeous_ went unsaid, lost in her hazel eyes that shimmered almost golden as she curled into the Alpha's side with a silent laugh Yuri thought he could hear even through the screen, so vivid was her expression. Blond curls spilled down her back like a waterfall of molten sunshine, the light reflecting on it like on a golden mirror. Alyosha smiled without even looking, but there was a certain bitterness in the corner of his mouth.

"Roza."

"You never introduced her."

Yuri was just pointing it out, but he could see it still hurt.

"She's dead."

The strain in Alyosha's voice brought a matching tension to his neck and shoulders and Yuri regretted asking in the first place. He didn't need to ask if he'd loved her.

After dialing Lilia's number and dealing with the expected harangue that, if Yuri wasn't completely deaf, was mixed with just the slightest hint of concern, the ride home was quiet. Only the radio kept attempting to break the silence, failing miserably until Alyosha reached out to turn it off and Yuri's eyes closed almost that same instant.

He only opened them again when the car stopped in front of his apartment and the motor stilled. Alyosha looked over at him for a brief moment. His face twisted into an unreadable expression. 

"Is it your heat? Are you going into heat?"

But the dullness of Yuri's eyes told him that he wouldn't get an answer, at least not one he could use. There was no way the boy had managed to keep track of his cycle over the past weeks. He was a mess beyond recognition, his mind wrecked by the lack of sleep he'd so abruptly been subjected to, the exertion of both the skating and ballet classes and the work at night, and Alyosha couldn't remember the last time he'd seen the ardent fire in Yuri die down so drastically. Helpless rage let his fist meet the steering wheel, enough for it to tremble from the force of impact.

That the Omega flinched back violently, he didn't even notice.

"Okay. Okay, fuck it. You're not doing this anymore," Alyosha said firmly, his chest heaved. "Either the bratva or your career. You _have_ to choose, Yurik. There's no way you can keep doing both, look at how it ruined you already!"

He didn't dare say that it would become obvious too soon, that people would start noticing and that he'd heard rumors about Yuri being spread already to the point of madness, the craziest theories about what might be the cause for his sudden absence on social media. From a life-threatening disease to abduction, they had considered every possibility and Alyosha had almost been tempted to write some new names on the goner list.

Putting Yuri's reputation at risk like that would be no good either, he told himself to calm down, to not do something stupid that'd make it all even harder. They really didn't need that right now.

"Come on." Alyosha sighed in defeat. "I'll take you upstairs and then we'll see what to do about your fever."

His hand tenderly brushed the Omega's reddened cheek before he unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car, not paying the still pouring rain any attention. Once he'd rounded the car and opened the passenger door, two slender arms suddenly reached out towards him and warm breath caressed the bare skin where the collar of his shirt slipped down a bit, heavy from the rain that soaked the fabric.

"Carry me upstairs?" Yuri's voice was barely a whisper, a meek request.

Before Alyosha answered, he leaned down further and hoisted the younger man up and into his arms to hold him properly, then he smiled - despite the cold water dripping from every single strand of his hair and onto the Omega's clothes instead

"Of course."

His elbow hit the edge of the door and it slammed shut, finally allowing the Alpha to step away and towards the entrance of the house instead. The staircase was cold and empty, barely heated in spring, and as soon as Alyosha had unlocked the door to Yuri's apartment, he too shivered. It was cold here, and even though the boy in his arms was still shaking, it would help bring his fever down at least a bit until he could get him some medicine.

Angrily, the rain pounded against the windows, looking for his two already soaking wet victims as if he wasn't done with them yet. What little pallid light seeped in through the glass front of the living room was enough to illuminate the apartment at least a bit, and Alyosha didn't dare to switch on the ceiling lamp. Yuri was already turning away from the windows, hiding his face against the shoulder of the Alpha carrying him over to the couch now and carefully setting him down.

A little black and white flash darted from the shadow and immediately clambered onto her usual perch on Yuri's chest, purring in obvious concern at the distress of her owner.

"Alright. Will you wait here for me while I make you some tea?" Alyosha asked with a glance at Potya, voice as reassuring as he could possibly manage. "I'll only be a minute."

But as soon as he had turned his back, there was a slender hand grasping the sleeve of his shirt, almost tearing the fabric, fingernails digging dangerously deep into the flesh beneath.

"No!"

The word, called out in a frenzy, bordered the hysteric scream of a child waking from a nightmare and Alyosha couldn't even spin around completely when Yuri was already shaking with silent sobs as he stood there in the middle of the room like an abandoned kitten, dripping rainwater onto the carpet, trembling and distraught, with Potya now meowing at his feet.

"No, don't leave me alone here, don't you dare leave me alone, not you too, for fuck's sake, not you, never you!"

His knees gave out, all blood draining from his face as he broke down against the man, his entire weight on Alyosha's arm now. Like through a thick layer of cotton, he felt the hand stroking his hair, heard the voice above him say something to him that he didn't bother to try and understand. The cold was almost unbearable and he crept closer to the warm body next to him instinctively, snuggling into the comforting presence.

If he just squeezed his eyes shut, if he just fooled himself enough, the smell of cinnamon in his lungs was the one of lemongrass and brown sugar instead; if he just tried hard enough, then the still lacking slight whiff of leather, hair gel and motor oil that clung so adamantly to the one he wanted with him right now was present. If he just concentrated enough then the voice talking to him was level and calm and encompassed the soft lilt of an accent nobody but a native, pure-bred Russian like himself would probably be able to hear and that stemmed only from the fact that Otabek still spoke Kazakh more often than Russian.

If he just wished for it hard enough, then maybe Otabek would finally talk to him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For my lovely egg as goodnight read after being very diligent all day and for all you cuties who keep leaving me those sweet-ass comments that mostly send me into happy tears ( ˘ ³˘)♥ Thank y'all for reading! (◍•ᴗ•◍)❤
> 
> Love,  
> Dissent


	7. Chapter 7 - Please remember that I miss you

The phone rang at seven when Yuri hadn't even gone through his second cup of coffee. As a result, he only reached for it with bleary eyes, missed it, tried again.

"What?" he slurred, uncaring about who it was on the other end of the line.

"Since you didn't hear me knocking, I figured a phone call might do the deed and lo and behold. Open the door for me?"

Yuri nearly choked on the mouthful of coffee he had tried to swallow just now. The cup shattered on the kitchen floor, thousands of tiny pieces clattered across the tiles as he darted towards the front door and almost dislocated his wrist from how frenzied he was in his attempt to turn the key and open the door.

It hurt to see him standing there, almost as much as it had hurt to see him leave after Barcelona, but the pain was different now. Back then at the airport, it'd been hollow and dull and nauseating, but now the pain was more like the breathless euphoria that Yuri knew from the end of a competition, when every inch of his body ached and still, he couldn't have been happier.

"Are you crying? Yuri, don't cry."

Only then did he notice that indeed hot tears were slowly trickling down his cheeks. Otabek still looked the same, so much that it felt like there hadn't been a day since they'd parted at the airport in Barcelona - his torn black jeans, the washed-out shirt that read in almost illegible letters "godless animal", the battered shoulder bag by his side, hair brushed back with the single strand defiantly sticking out right above his left temple.

Yuri almost feared the next breath he took would dissolve Otabek into dust and make him vanish from his doorstep where he shouldn't be because how on earth had he gotten a vacation from his coach at this time of year when they all should be more concerned about their improvements than anything, but complaining about it was the furthest thing from Yuri's mind. He just wasn't ready yet to believe this was really happening.

A sweet whiff of brown sugar sent his head spinning, thoughts racing, chasing one another in tiny, tiny circles. This had to be a fever dream from last night too. Hadn't he dreamt of Papa and Mama for the first time in ages again too? Of them standing by his bed, Papa resting one cool hand on his forehead to shush him, only for Yuri to gasp and the next clear view he had of his room told him that it was just Alyosha worriedly crooning at him.

How long had it been since Yuri had last dreamt of them? Months, if not years, if he was being honest. There was just too little he remembered of them to have elaborate dreams.

But Otabek - he remembered Otabek. Remembered every little detail, every quirk and flaw, even remembered that Otabek would usually be doing his warm-up exercises now before going over to the choreographies and routines, remembered that Otabek drank his coffee with enough sugar and milk to call it a milkshake with slight coffee flavor instead, remembered that Otabek had a bad habit of holding his violin the wrong way and just laughed about it, remembered that Otabek was adamant about things he'd set his mind on, such as seeing his friend again after two months of strict online communication.

And here he stood now, a bit soaked from the rain that had decided to stay overnight, but smiling like he couldn't imagine any place he'd rather be at this exact moment.

"I'm not crying," Yuri sobbed, frantically wiping his face as he stepped back. "I'm not... I'm not..."

What a traitor his voice was, failing him so shamelessly in front of the one man he'd never wanted to see him like this again. His breakdown during the GPF had been excusable; he had been under so much pressure that nobody would judge him for bursting into tears after an exhausting free skate. Now, Yuri had no pretense to justify his reaction.

What he was worried about though, he didn't know himself. It had been Otabek after all who'd told him it was okay to feel drained and tired and done with the world after such an important competition, who'd sat him down in his room after the banquet and had gently rubbed his shoulder until Yuri had dissolved into a sobbing mess, but the Alpha hadn't budged from his side even once until he was done crying and felt like finally, someone had taken that suffocating weight off his chest.

Even now, Otabek remained on the threshold, waiting with the unwavering patience of a saint for Yuri to dry up the tears and return from the sudden agonal respiration to his usual breathing pattern.

"Can I come in?"

The question sounded almost hesitant, as if he was approaching a very sensitive limit by just asking. What he probably hadn't expected in the least was the sudden harsh grip on his shirt that forced him to step forward in order not to lose his balance, straight into the hallway.

Before Otabek even got to set down the bag, his eyes very delicately captured Yuri's gaze.

"Sorry for bothering you this early in the morning. I just wanted you to know I was here or how I know you, you probably would have given me a whole dressing-down for not reaching out to you immediately the second my plane landed."

Bothering, he called it. Like his presence had ever been a bother. Like Yuri hadn't begrudgingly admitted that Otabek was the only one he still talked to in the off-season (Viktor and the piglet didn't count, they were pesky nuisances and not adequate company, Mila was his best friend and Georgi was... well, Georgi was Georgi and rarely wanted company except for when a poor soul was willing to play the audience to his monologues).

"You could've called beforehand," Yuri sniffled, still visibly upset. "I would've picked you up. How do you even know my address?"

A deep crimson blush monopolized Otabek's cheeks as he awkwardly shifted his weight from one leg to the other.

"I had Viktor tell me. Are you mad at me now?" he asked.

Yuri couldn't help but see the unsureness of a child in his expression, a child that had broken an established rule. But children didn't expect a Yes or No when asking such questions. Children expected to be told that it was okay, that nobody was going to be mad at them. Then again, Otabek wasn't a child. And Yuri not obligated to give him the response he expected.

"Yes, I'm mad at you," the young Omega snapped back, "but not because of that. I'm mad because I thought you were never going to talk to me again in this life, because I know it was my fault too, that I was the one forgetting to answer your texts, but it made me so angry to hear you trying to patronize me even from the other half of the world and then you show up at seven in the morning like you didn't just come all the way from Kazakhstan to see me and I—"

Suddenly, his lungs were void of air.

Mostly because there was a pair of lips on his own, still a tiny bit cold from the morning air, and in sharp contrast, two warm hands stroked his back through the thin fabric of his shirt.

They only surfaced from the kiss when Yuri opened his mouth into a quiet moan, just enough to voice the sweet thrill that had crawled along his spine unprompted. Before Otabek could lean down to kiss him again, a hand was shoved onto his mouth and he blinked in surprise. Yuri almost felt bad. Now the Alpha surely must think he didn't like the kiss.

"I'm sick. You shouldn't catch my fever the first day you're here," he muttered, all while slowly retreating his hand.

He didn't have the time to lower it back down though. Otabek took it and brought it back up to his lips for a light kiss, and only then stepped back.

"I'm very sorry for what happened. I shouldn't have tried to tell you what to do in the first place, and I know I've been childish for not contacting you anymore," he admitted honestly and a certain tone of guilt swung in his voice. "At first I really thought I'd just not text you for a few days or so, but then you didn't reach out to me either and I figured you must be really upset to not talk to me for that long. So, I planned to come here in person and apologize."

He sounded so distressed, so absolutely apologetic that Yuri almost forgot about the uncomfortable heaviness in his limbs, about the fever still throbbing beneath his skin and the heat oozing off of him, and instead just coiled his arms so tightly around Otabek's neck that not a single sheet of paper would've fit in between them.

Chuckling, the Alpha nuzzled into his neck and Yuri would've immediately protested against the hands suddenly grasping his thighs if he hadn't known that Otabek had no other intention than to lift him up. Not a second later, he was wrapped around the man like an octopus. A purring, overjoyed octopus.

The strong arms holding him only tightened their grip when the soft little sound spilled from his throat and Yuri's inner Omega preened at such a display of strength yet tenderness. Oh, Otabek was a wonderful Alpha to have around. He acted so calm all the time, but his words could turn cutting and cold for everyone who got on his nerves. Yuri would hate to be on his bad side.

Luckily, he was furthest from, if the gentle gaze Otabek regarded him with was anything to go by. An unfamiliar warmth, different from the one of the fever, washed through his body and all of a sudden, the shivers stopped as he clung even tighter to the Alpha.

"My little koala bear," he could hear Otabek mutter as he carried him to the living room and sat him down on the couch as gentle as possible, but Yuri still refused to end their hug just yet.

Not when they'd been apart for so long and he finally had the chance to bask in that fresh scent of lemongrass and brown sugar, leather and hair gel for as long as he wanted. Run his fingers through chocolate brown locks and savor the sensation of Otabek's freshly shaven undercut, the stiff material of his black biker jacket and the warm, golden skin that contrasted so prettily against his ivory hands.

"Yura, you'll have to let go of me for a moment if you want me to hug you properly."

The reprimand was still so soft, so incredibly loving. Otabek had never raised his voice against Yuri before. Unwilling to release the Alpha from his hold, he shook his head. Violently. An exasperated huff met his childish pout, but it turned into a gasp when Otabek found himself on top of Yuri on the couch, nearly smothering the Omega with his body. When he moved to get off of him, a hand grasped the longer strands of his hair.

"Stay."

"I'm not your dog, Yura."

"Stay. Right there."

Despite the protest, Otabek did stay. Patiently, he waited, his entire upper body resting on one of his arms that was pressed into the cushioning right beside Yuri. Just as he was about to carefully pull out of the embrace and tell the Omega it was enough, he found the grip on his neck slackening, the legs around his waist too sliding back down.

At first, he frowned, utterly confused. Then he realized what had just happened.

Yuri was soundly asleep on the couch beneath him, finally dozing off after a restless night with the reassuring heat and weight of an Alpha on top of him. The feverish blush on his face and neck was still there, but at least he was getting some proper rest. Otabek sighed heavily. His palm was slowly easing itself out of the soft pillows and slid along Yuri's cheek, tracing the outlines.

"I'll have to correct myself. You really are a handful sometimes."

A fond smile tugged at his lips nonetheless as he tried to settle more comfortably. They both wouldn't benefit from it if he was sore tomorrow. Just as he'd found a somewhat bearable position on the couch that would keep Yuri calm and asleep, the Omega nuzzled into the crook of his arm and Otabek froze.

"You know I heard that, right?" Yuri mumbled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello m'lads and lasses, I bring the new chapter! ⊂(•‿•⊂ )*.✧ Thank you guys so much, you're awesome! Please accept this fluff in exchange for all your lovely comments! ( ˘ ³˘)♥
> 
> Love,  
> Dissent


	8. Chapter 8 - Young and reckless, what did we do?

Otabek had expected to wake up to a content Omega in his arms, or maybe a good-morning kiss, or at least Yuri complaining about him sleeping on top of him, trying to shove him off the couch so he could at least move.

What he definitely hadn't expected was to wake up to two hushed voices arguing close by. The city lights before the window were already lit and he sat up, groggily rubbing his face. How had a six-hour flight messed him up so badly? He'd endured longer trips, for heaven's sake. A blanket slipped from his shoulders into his lap. Even through the exhaustion, Otabek smiled.

"I can't let you wander through life like you ain't got a care in the world! I won't hurt him, promise! Not too bad, at least. Just enough to make sure he knows not to fuck with you."

"If you lay a single finger on him, you can kiss your balls goodbye."

That sounded bad.

Curious and worried, he struggled to his feet and followed the voices through the open doorway into the kitchen. Yuri's face was glowing and his cheeks of a bright crimson, but from anger this time - not from the fever. In front of him stood a tall man, somebody Otabek hadn't seen before. He was obviously an Alpha, one who liked to throw his pheromones all across the place. And judging from how passive-aggressively he had bared his fangs in defiance, Yuri held some kind of authority over him.

Almost immediately, a foreign rage replaced Otabek's drowsiness. He didn't want to growl at the man, he didn't want to appear so possessive, but with every fiber, his body cried for him to step in, to protect the little Omega standing before the Alpha like a delicate flower attempting to brave the oncoming storm brewing on the horizon.

He hadn't expected Yuri's roots to reach so deep.

"Stay back," he snapped at the stranger when he moved a single step forward, towards Otabek.

And really, the Alpha did stay back. More out of respect than of free will, but he stayed back. He and Otabek inspected eachother like two wild animals coincidentally meeting for the first time, both suspicious, both vigilant. Ready to attack or dodge a hit any moment.

Until Yuri scoffed and tugged on Otabek's sleeve. If he hadn't known his friend better, he would've dismissed it as a childish way of getting his attention, but now he turned around to look at Yuri.

"At least you stop being so immature, Beka," he said with a scornful glare at the other Alpha. "Lyosha obviously can't help himself."

His words made both men straighten up and clear their throats. To be called immature in front of an Omega - Yuri, at that - wounded their pride. Otabek saw it in the Alpha's eyes, felt the sharp sting in his own chest. Belatedly, he realized the man was holding out one hand towards him and took it. Their gazes clashed.

"I'm Aleksei."

"Otabek."

That concluded the introduction. Instead, their attention was drawn back to Yuri, who yawned and pointedly curled into Otabek's side as if to piss the man in front of them off even more. Torn between smugness and anger, he gently laid one arm over the Omega's shoulders.

"Beka, tell him to go away. I want to sleep some more," Yuri demanded, blinking at the other Alpha with eyes that glistened so dangerously he could just as well have aimed a gun at him.

The man - Aleksei - snorted and turned around, one hand raised, the other shoved deep into his pocket.

"I don't take orders from someone like him. But fine. When you're done playing, I'll be waiting for you."

A bit too forceful, he tore the front door open and slammed it shut, not significantly more gentle this time. Otabek stared after him for a moment with narrowed eyes. The strong smell of cinnamon settled in layers on his tongue and he rubbed it along the roof of his mouth in disgust. What an annoying little git.

"Sorry. Did we wake you?" a voice next to him asked and only now he got reminded that there was someone who had some explaining to do after this incredibly confusing scene.

"No," he said and shook his head before looking at Yuri, who was still nuzzling into his side with his eyes half-lidded. "I'd just like to know what the hell this was all about. Yuri, was that your boyfriend? If I'd known you're in a relationship, I wouldn't have—”

"You wouldn't have what?"

The atmosphere changed faster than Otabek could process it. Suddenly, there was a very obvious hostility in what little space was still between them.

"You wouldn't have come? Wouldn't have kissed me?"

Two strong hands grasped Yuri's shoulders and gently pushed him back until they could look at eachother properly. Now, it was Otabek's glare that made him retreat slightly.

"No, I wouldn't have!" the Alpha snapped. "Yuri, how can you let me kiss you and hold you like that when you're in a relationship with someone? That's wrong, Yuri, I can't— _we_ can't do that! It's just not right! How can you do something like that?"

For a brief moment, they just stared at eachother, both startled. Then, a tender glow began to fill Yuri's eyes from within, like he'd just realized something important. His hand laid itself on top of Otabek's, squeezed it gently.

"You're not mad because of the cheating. You're mad because of Alyosha. Because you think he's my Alpha. Right? You're just mad because you wanted me. And now you think you waited too long and lost your chance. All you really are is jealous."

Flustered, the Alpha took a step back. It felt like his skin was burned where Yuri had touched him. Yuri, who was now laughing brightly. Through the confusion, he sensed a new feeling emerging - anger.

"Do you find it funny to play with me?" Otabek hissed, hurt and disbelieving at the audacity. "Yes, I am jealous! So what? I've been jealous for years, of everyone who was allowed to be close to you when I wasn't! I fell for you when I was still a kid and I couldn't get over you, so go ahead, laugh at that too!"

He wanted to turn around, to leave the room and maybe the apartment, get his head right during a walk and maybe arrange a hotel room for himself, when a warm hand reached for his wrist. Otabek tried to shake it off, but Yuri just held on tighter.

"Beka. Beka, listen. I didn't mean to laugh. I'm just happy." He quickly slipped past the Alpha and blocked the way out, still holding onto his wrist. "Don't leave, Beka. Let me explain. Just two minutes of your time. And then I'll step aside and you can do whatever you want. Deal?"

Hesitantly, Otabek looked at his apologetic face, then he breathed deeply and took his shoulders back.

"Two minutes, starting now. Go."

Yuri exploded into a rant.

"I wasn't making fun of you, I promise. Lyosha isn't anything but a good friend. He's practically family, my family raised him since he was ten, and sometimes he acts a bit overprotective. Deda asked him to have an eye on me from time to time, so now he feels obligated to be my personal bodyguard day and night. He was just worried when he came in and saw us sleeping on the couch. Of course he knows who you are, but nothing about us being friends, so he must've assumed you hurt me or something, okay?"

He stopped, sucked in a sharp breath and continued at the same pace.

"I promise, there never was and never will be anything between me and him. I wouldn't have kissed you if I was with him, I swear, Beka. And I didn't want to laugh at you and make you feel bad. I was just so happy when I realized that you're just the same as I am. You like me, right? That's why you got jealous. I know your feelings probably run deeper since you remember me from years ago, but ever since I met you again in Barcelona, I liked you too. Not just... liked you. Every time I said you were my friend, something inside me protested. And the longer I think about what you told me that night in the pool, I suppose it might be my soul. For slandering our relationship. Because whatever we are, we certainly aren't friends. So I—"

Interrupted mid-sentence, he found himself pressed against the wooden doorpost, the warm presence of the Alpha hanging over him.

"Time's up."

And Otabek leaned down, devoured his lips with a passionate kiss, one Yuri couldn't and didn't want to escape from. His arms were once again clinging onto the Alpha's neck, when suddenly, he felt fingertips teasing along his midriff, where the shirt had ridden up at the fierce press of their bodies.

A nervous laugh burst from Yuri's throat as he pulled back and breathed heavily.

"Beka?" he asked, cursing his voice for the barely hidden insecurity that seeped through it like bitter venom.

Glittering eyes stared back at him.

"You said I could do whatever I want, remember? And I intend to take your word for it."

The next kiss ravished his neck, his bare throat and collar bone, left flaring red marks blossoming into the white of his skin like roses that had bloomed to early in the snow. Teeth tenderly dug into his flesh and left him with a throbbing ache yet want for more. Yuri moaned softly, his hand trembled as he reached up to claw Otabek's hair and tried to pull him away.

"Beka," he gasped frantically, "Beka, stop it, you horny bastard!"

A little laugh caught him off guard and suddenly, he was scooped up safely in the Alpha's arms.

"Shh, I was messing a bit with you. Yuri, I'd never do anything you don't want. And I'd certainly not allow us to do this in the hallway." He smiled, his hand gently stroked down Yuri's back. "When and if you want us to eventually get closer is your decision. And we'll take our time should it come to that, okay?"

An embarrassing mixture of relief and disappointment fueled the Omega's nod. His cheeks were red with shame. How could he have even thought Otabek was going to force himself onto him like this right now, right here? He should know his best friend by now. Which brought a new question to his mind that he found impossible not to ask.

"Hey, Beka?" he began hesitantly. His gaze swept over the face just inches away from his own, the dark eyes that looked at him so lovingly. "What are we going to be now? Do you... do wanna be something more than friends?"

A foreign, delicious warmth spread throughout his entire body when strong hands took his own and the scent of lemongrass and brown sugar intensified, coiled around them and enclosed them like an invisible veil.

"I'd love to, Yura. Because I love you."

The embrace was gentle, but Yuri purred in overwhelming joy when Otabek finally pulled away and leaned forward to kiss him one last time before they parted - fingers still interlaced.

A soft vibration from the Omega's pocket interrupted the moment as brutally as a gunshot. Groaning, Yuri reached down to drag the phone up and glanced at the display.

**_Message from: Lyosha_ **  
_Where r u? Not waiting all night._

His guilty conscience acted up again. There was business to take care of, some of it urgent matters. If he skipped tonight, he'd have even more stuff on his agenda tomorrow. With a deep sigh, Yuri looked up at Otabek again.

"Will you be mad if I leave for a while? I have work stacked up to the roof and it's not going to do itself."

As expected, the Alpha's face distorted with suspicion and concern, his grip tightened to keep Yuri in place.

"You have to work at night? No wonder everyone tells me you look like you'll drop dead any moment! No, stay here. You have to get a good night's rest for once. Please. For me, Yura," he begged.

But all his words did was weigh Yuri down even more. It was hard enough to hide Alyosha and the bratva business from everyone else in his life, and now he was supposed to lie to the one person he should be able to trust wholeheartedly, the one he _had_ trusted wholeheartedly until today and still trusted more than anyone else?

Life was cruel, but the bratva was crueller.

And it demanded unrestrained input.

"Sorry, Beka. I really can't just put this on the shelf. Someone's counting on me to deal with some stuff for them. I promise, I'll be back by morning, and tomorrow's Sunday. We can hang out all day if you want, and I'll go to bed earlier. Okay?"

The disappointment on Otabek's face almost hurt. Physically. Yuri could barely suppress a flinch.

"Yura, you're not going to be able to skate for much longer if you keep this up," the Alpha complained. "Which actually is something I wanted to talk to you about as well."

His expression turned serious. Suddenly, Yuri felt like someone had knocked all air from his lungs. Inside his head, he wasn't able to grasp a coherent thought, mind jumping from picture to picture, unfocused, uncontrollable.

Otabek exhaled softly.

"I got offered a job for when I retire."

_Oh._

His restless thoughts screeched to a halt. That wasn't something bad. That was something good, actually. A job offer for an ex-athlete wasn't to be taken for granted.

"But that's awesome!" he blurted out excitedly. "Why are you so serious about this? It's great, Beka! What will you be working as?"

The gaze he was met with was nothing short of dejected.

"Yura, I'll be retiring after this season. Kazakhstan's special forces are desperate for new recruits."

They looked at eachother, both equally devastated, both equally frustrated with this entire situation, until Yuri curled into the Alpha's arms again, wide-eyed, staring into the dark fabric of Otabek's shirt.

"Maybe I should stay here tonight," he said weakly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, once again the new chap for y'all! (´∩｡• ᵕ •｡∩`) Thanks to every single one of you always leaving me comments and brightening my day, you're all awesome people!! ( ˘ ³˘)♥
> 
> Love,  
> Dissent


	9. Chapter 9 - Broken promise, gone forever

He stayed true to his word. His responsibilities as heir to an entire criminal empire be damned for the night when his time with Otabek was limited, far more than it had ever been.

Nary an inch between them, he had tucked his face into the Alpha's shirt, his knuckles protruding white from the blanket draped across their bodies - as if letting go meant Otabek would disappear forever. And considering the Alpha had announced to him his plans of early retirement, that terrifying reality was closer than Yuri could take without trembling at the mere thought.

"When will I see you if you're going to be stuck at work all year?" he tried to ask casually, but his scent must've given him away.

Otabek's hand tenderly cupped his own, thumb rubbing soothing circles into his palm to help Yuri choke back the tears.

"I'll make sure to take time off during your major competitions so I can be there. And of course, I'll always be at the GPF. Off-season, we can meet for a week or two every few months. Or, if you're comfortable with that, move to Kazakhstan for a while. Train there during the off-season, stay with me. We could live together."

Live together.

The pakhan of the Saint Petersburg bratva and the Kazakh special unit officer living together like in some bad drama-comedy movie middle-aged women watched alone with a bottle of red wine, wondering when someone was going to love them as much.

Yuri took another deep breath. The nausea wouldn't settle at all, a nagging presence in his guts that just refused to fade. He wondered if Alyosha had everything under control.

"What would you do if I committed a crime?"

That came unexpected. For both of them. Damn it, he hadn't meant to ask that! But Otabek just looked at him with barely the hint of a smile on his lips.

"A crime as in exceeding recommended hotness? Punish you, of course. What do you think handcuffs are for?" he teased, and even against his will, Yuri had to laugh.

"That's not what I meant, asshole! As in, a real crime. I don't know. Murder of some degree or something like that."

His lightheartedness was back. Otabek knew how to make everything so easy. Maybe he should trust him with this. Maybe Otabek would find a way for them to work out. But maybe Otabek would be disgusted with him, horrified at what he was doing behind the public face of Yuri Plisetsky, the ambitious figure skater whom everyone admired, maybe he'd call the authorities on him and then everything Deda had worked on so hard for thirty years was gone in the blink of an eye because he'd been lovestruck and too stupid to keep his mouth shut.

The Alpha beside him hummed thoughtfully.

"Hmm. Are we talking first or second degree murder or involuntary manslaughter then?"

Yuri scrunched up his nose.

"I didn't go to law school."

"Neither did I. It's common knowledge."

Shifting to look at Otabek more comfortably, Yuri tapped his nose.

"My entire life revolves around what kind of new blades I should get for my favorite skates and ballet."

_And guns. And good places to bury a man who's been shot by a gun. And people who know how to find good places to bury a man who's been shot by a gun. And making sure those people stay in line._

But Otabek didn't need to know that.

"First degree murder is premeditated murder. You thought about killing the person," the Alpha delivered promptly. "Second degree means you killed someone in the heat of the moment on cause of being provoked. Manslaughter is just doing something dangerous that you know would kill a person and actually murdering someone in the process. Like dropping rocks off a highway bridge and hitting a car."

"You know too much about this stuff."

Laughing, Otabek hugged him closer.

"I'm looking to join the special forces."

"I think... second degree murder it is then," Yuri responded with a yawn and cuddled up tighter to Otabek.

The Alpha wrapped one arm around him, teasingly tugging at one of the loose strands of hair that had slipped from his messy ponytail.

"I'd ask what made you so angry that you killed someone. And if the reason is a valid one, try and help you through whatever consequences occur," he admitted honestly.

Yuri bit his lip.

"You... wouldn't turn me in?"

A gentle kiss to his forehead reminded him of how close they were, of the hand lightly stroking his knee beneath the blanket.

"Where do all those questions come from? _Did_ you kill someone?"

It was meant as a joke, a tease, but Yuri felt tears welling up in his eyes nevertheless. He tried to blink them away, tried to take deeper breaths, but they were shaky and erratic and Otabek sat up with a concerned frown just before the Omega burst into tears again, sobbing violently into his shirt. A moment of completely stunned surprise later, he cradled Yuri to his chest, pressing soothing kisses into his hair, whispering sweetly to calm him down.

"Yura, zhanym, it's alright. Shhh, don't cry. Calm down. Deep breaths. Shhh, it's alright, it's alright. I'm here, okay? Whatever trouble you're in, you can tell me. We'll figure it out. I can help you if you tell me what's wrong, okay? Listen, Yura, I'm here for you."

The tattoos hurt, more than Yuri imagined they would. Through the tears, he stared at his hands that were clutching Otabek's shirt so tightly the fabric threatened to break. On his wrists, the two tigers were stretching towards his palms, their bodies drawn across his forearms. Everything was starting to blur together like a dense fog had filled the room all of a sudden.

"You... You're better off not knowing what kind of trouble I'm in."

"How can you say things like that and expect me not to worry?" Otabek asked, alarmed. "Yura, you're getting pale. Are you okay?"

The fever, the headache, the nausea, the tears, the guilt, the tattoos, the letters, the death threats.

_It could've been you. Either of them could've been you. It could be you with a bullet between your eyes now. It could be you buried somewhere nobody will bother to look. It could be me missing you, looking for you, crying because you aren't coming home. Beka, it could've been you. It could've been us._

"Yura!"

His vision flickered. On, off. On, off.

Blackness enveloped him tightly, squeezing his chest until it felt like his lungs would burst. He wanted to scream, wanted to hold onto the hands now frantically shaking him, wanted to respond to the distressed voice calling his name.

"Yura, come on! Look at me! Yura!"

The wall was peacefully blank and dark. Easy to focus on. Yuri let his head fall back, tried to stare at it, but his lids were heavy. Why had he ordered to kill them both? Why hadn't he just collected more information and pressed her into keeping quiet? Why had he been so proud of himself, of the two tattoos?

Voices around him finally tore him from the start of yet another delirium. Suddenly, foreign people started touching him, talking to him. He saw neon green vests, glowing brightly in the dim living room. Someone was hovering right over him, attentively watching his eyes. Their lips moved. Yuri wasn't certain what was happening.

The blinding white of an ambulance followed shortly after the cool night air grazed his bare arms. He'd cuddled up to Otabek beneath the blanket in just a short-sleeved shirt. The rumbling of an engine lulled him into a state of restless exhaustion, as did the hand holding his own, the deep, familiar voice talking to someone beside him.

"His fever is still rising."

Gloved fingers brushed his neck, checked his pulse. Something cool was wrapped around his wrists. He knew the fever was getting to him. Suddenly, Otabek gently nuzzled into his side.

"I'm with you, okay? They're going to take you away for a bit, but I'll be here to wait for you. I'm here, Yura."

_You wouldn't be if you knew what I did._

Ceiling lights flashed by, he heard people yelling. Sweat was pouring down every inch of his body and still, he felt himself shivering. Then, there was a cold, empty room and strong arms lifted him up. The first touch of icy water against his skin drew a breathless gasp from Yuri, but even as he tried to escape the horrid sensation, someone held him down.

"It's just to lower your fever, darling. It won't take long."

—

"How could you possibly not have noticed you were in heat?"

Yuri groaned softly as he turned to the side, eyes only reluctantly focusing on Otabek. The Alpha was on the edge of his seat with ashen face and messy hair.

"If I knew, I'd tell you," was the weak answer and then, Yuri rolled onto his side, still shivering from the ice bath.

Immediately, a hand was on his shoulder, the other rubbing his back. The doctors had looked equally concerned. If he'd been under a lot of stress or pressure lately, they'd asked - three of them, standing in the hospital room. If he felt uneasy or threatened sometimes. If someone was harassing him.

His instinctive reaction had been to throw himself into Otabek's arms and cry.

How should he ever admit that the entirety of the opposing mob was after him for eliminating one of their members and an associate? That he received threats to his life on a daily basis, that Alyosha was already reinforcing the guards, that there wasn't a second of peace in his days because either the tattoos and their purpose haunted him or the promises of some faceless mobsters to end him the second he let any hint to his identity slip?

 _"Your body was actively suppressing your heat on its own as a sign that it's not safe for you to have pups right now. Something must have triggered that protective instinct, something your Omega side, consciously or subconsciously, deemed a threat to yourself and your possible children,"_ the words from one of the doctors resonated within him and Yuri whimpered, clutching his belly.

"No!" he sobbed and curled up even tighter beneath the blankets.

Otabek's presence shifted from the chair by the bed to the mattress beside him. A soothing embrace suddenly encompassed Yuri completely, the warmth and comfort of a strong Alpha shushing him to the point his dry sobs ebbed away felt almost surreal.

How could Otabek still be with him, not just accompanying him to the hospital but also still trying to calm and reassure him?

"Please, Yura, it's alright. They said you're going to be fine once the fever subsides. You're not pregnant. And there's nobody who can hurt you as long as I'm here. Okay?"

If he could believe that, his entire life would have been much easier, Yuri thought with a stifled sob. As much relief he felt at Otabek's promise to keep him safe, how could he demand him to make good on it when an entire bratva family was now after him? He wouldn't be able to take it if Otabek ended up on their grid too and possibly murdered in a drive-by with no warning whatsoever.

"You have no idea!"

His desperation was turning into rage as he trashed against the Alpha's body in agony.

"You have no idea, not even the palest idea of what you're saying! You can't keep me safe, you know nothing, absolutely _nothing!_ Keep out of this, keep out of my business, keep out of my life! I don't want you... I don't want... I don't want..."

_I don't want you to be in danger because of me._

Yuri's words broke into fragments and pieces and dissolved into tears, completely useless. It hurt to even look at Otabek, who was staring at him, speechless. And slowly uncoiled his arms from the Omega.

"Okay," he said weakly. "Okay. I got it."

He stood up, trembling, and reached for the jacket draped across the back of the chair nearby. As he slid it on, still hesitant, his gaze travelled back to Yuri for a moment.

"You know... if you really don't want me in your life this badly, you should've just said so today when we talked. I am not forcing you into anything. I'm not expecting you to return my feelings. But I would've appreciated it if you told me from the beginning that you weren't sure about this. I'll look after Potya until you're dismissed, and after that, let's see."

The door opened the second his hand had touched the handle and the smell of aggravated, concerned Alpha slammed into Otabek. Alyosha barged in like the living incarnation of the devil was on his heels.

"Yuri!"

In a flash, he was by the Omega's side, hovering over him, snarling at Otabek with bared fangs who just raised his head higher and stepped outside. The door fell shut with a quiet clicking sound as he stopped in the hallway for a minute to not let the burning in his eyes get the upper hand.

It took all his willpower to ignore Yuri's pained outcry and move away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, as always! (*´ω｀*)❤️


	10. Chapter 10 - Maybe one day we'll get better

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads-up: Yuri is still underaged in this chapter and there's sexual activity so if you aren't comfortable with that, I suggest you skip this chapter. I will give a brief summary in the end note.

The rain pouring onto the mostly black, occasionally grey umbrellas of the gathered crowd didn't exactly help to lift the mood. Yuri stood apart from everyone else, refusing violently to let somebody share their umbrella with him.

He stood straight and upright, too composed for a boy his age faced with the casket in front of him. Only the strain in his shoulders gave away how much it cost him to not start crying, to not break down completely, to not lose his cool.

Droplets of water ran down his cheeks from his soaked hair, replacing the tears that should've been there. Viktor's hand tentatively trying to rest upon the shoulder of the young Omega was slapped away upon contact. Not even Mila, not Lilia, Yakov or Yuuri were allowed to approach.

A silent wall of grief seemed to block every attempt to reach out to him.

Nobody knew the man who appeared too late to still be appropriate, who didn't hesitate to stride over and wrap his arms around Yuri. He endured the embrace more than he responded to it, but he allowed it. He even granted the man permission to take his hand and squeeze it lightly as they stared at the wooden casket in mutual pain, didn't even bother to pull away from him.

Viktor clenched his teeth and so did Mila, suspicious and infuriated at the stranger who gently stroked Yuri's hair back to bend down and whisper something into his ear to which the Omega just nodded tiredly. After that, all of the people who'd lined up to express their condolences were dismissed by the tall Alpha now towering behind Yuri, both hands on his shoulders, gently squeezing them when he turned to look at the new grave.

Only the crimson rose Yuri had placed by the side of the cross remained, reminding the attendants that Nikolai's grandson hadn't forgotten to pay his respects to the man who'd raised him after Stefan and Maya Plisetsky had died to protect their child.

—

Otabek opened the door and stepped aside, bow and violin in hand. He'd interrupted him playing.

"I'm sorry to hear about your grandfather," he said quietly.

The sheets on the bed were still ruffled, like the Alpha had just gotten up. Yuri discarded his shoes by the door and slowly sank down onto the edge of it, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. He didn't say anything. There was still a lingering warmth in the blankets surrounding him.

By the window, Otabek lifted the violin back to his chin and brought the bow up. The giant glass front overlooked most of Saint Petersburg, although the view was obscured slightly by the rain pattering against the panes. A light melody rose from the violin as Otabek moved his arm just barely noticeably.

"Did you come here for consolidation?" he asked mid-play, eyes closed, focused on the music. "You know I'm not all that good at things like that."

Yuri bit down on his bottom lip.

"What's the name of the piece?"

"Czardas by Monti. Why are you here?"

He lowered the bow, only looking at the Omega through the reflection in the glass before him. A bitter note was playing around his mouth, like he would've rather said something else.

He didn't.

"Because I love you. And I want you in my life. More than anything else," Yuri whispered, clenching his sweaty hands into the fabric of his slacks. "I just— I need to tell you something. And I know you'll be angry. I know you'll hate me. I know you'll be in danger the second you know. But I trust you. To keep me safe, and yourself."

Humming softly, Otabek lifted both the violin and bow again and continued his play.

"I'll decide whom I hate and when I get angry by myself, thank you."

Yuri took a shuddering breath. His lungs ached, his tongue felt dry and heavy like someone had replaced it with lead.

"Beka, look at me. Please. I need you to look at me."

Finally, _finally,_ the Alpha turned around. The chocolate brown of his eyes was circled with dark shadows, like he hadn't slept much either. Desperate for any kind of closure, Yuri reached out his arms. And suddenly, Otabek's entire weight was upon his body, crowding him into the sheets that still smelled like laundry detergent but now also a tiny bit like lemongrass and brown sugar and Yuri purred helplessly into the slight hollow of the Alpha's neck, crooning and grooming the tender skin there.

"I've always been looking at you. Only you. It was always you," Otabek muttered, tightly clawing Yuri's shirt. "And it will be you forever. Just you. Nobody else. My Yura, mine. I love you too, zhanym, I love you so much."

Every word was a kiss scattered across the Omega's neck and cheeks and lips. With an exaggerated slowness, he let his hands roam down Yuri's body, his lips taking over every inch of bare skin. The Omega gasped as a hot bolt of pleasure flashed through him, only intensifying the longer he struggled.

Otabek wrapped one arm tightly around him and pressed himself even tighter against Yuri. Strands of dark, uncombed hair fell over his lightly veiled eyes. He inquiringly studied Yuri's face, searching for the telltale signs of a blush and finding them faster than the Omega would've liked.

A smoldering fire seemed to spread within him, and Yuri no longer knew whether to try and escape Otabek's grip or shift to feel him even closer.

"Beka," he moaned breathlessly, canting his hips up against the Alpha's thigh.

He was completely at the mercy of both: the incredibly wonderful Alpha above him and the sweet bliss that felt so strange and yet so natural. A hungry gaze devoured him whole and Yuri almost cried out at the sight of warm, chocolate brown eyes almost black now.

"Mine," a hoarse voice whispered against his skin, branding into it.

He knew this tone, the intensity of it. Pure, carnal desire. Something he'd wanted for so long. At last, Otabek saw something in him other than a child, even though he'd been behaving like one for so long now.

Slender fingers worked on the buttons of his dress shirt, almost reverently stroking every inch of bare skin they revealed only to abandon him too fast. Yuri shivered when Otabek parted the front of the shirt, suddenly feeling cold as soon as the Alpha's hands didn't warm him anymore. But prior to any complaint escaping his lips, the comforting sensation returned and Otabek groaned.

"Yura, my beautiful Omega. I can't keep my hands off of you any longer."

His lips descended upon the pale expanse of Yuri's chest, kiss after kiss searing into the ivory skin. The little Omega whimpered, shifted, clawed the surrounding sheets. He could barely contain the moans threatening to slip from his throat. Torn between enjoying the slow, torturous conquest and feeling oh so wrong for it in the same breath, Yuri still couldn't help as his entire body arched against Otabek, seeking more of the pleasure he was so obviously capable of giving.

A gentle hand laid itself on his abdomen, fiddled with the buckle of his belt for a brief moment and snapped it open.

"Lift your hips."

The demand was voiced softly and yet it didn't leave any space for resistance. Without the hindrance of the belt, Otabek easily slid the black slacks down. They hit the hardwood floor of the hotel room with a rustle and slightly metallic noise at impact, but Yuri couldn't hear it over the throbbing of his own pulse. His entire body was ablaze with unrelenting desire by now.

"Hey, Yura. I'm... not the first one to touch you like this, right?" Otabek asked, his voice highlighted with want.

The deep crimson that rose to Yuri's cheeks at his whispered question was enough of a testimony to the wrongness of those words, but hell would be freezing before the Omega admitted it. A soft chuckle reverberated from Otabek's chest as he cupped Yuri's chin and tilted it towards him.

"Zhanym, don't be ashamed. I'm happy to teach you. Come on now, I'll show you how an Alpha wants to be kissed."

And show him he did.

His tongue coaxed Yuri's out to play, expertly forcing the Omega to respond just as eager, pearl-white teeth were tugging and nipping on the tender flesh of the younger man's bottom lip until he grumbled quietly and returned the favour. Otabek's gasp separated them. While Otabek's thumb rubbed slow circles on the reddened cheek of the Omega, Yuri attempted to catch his breath too, but with every bit of air he sucked in, his body ached more and his lungs felt like they were studded with needles.

"Fuck," he whimpered in frustration as his body gave out entirely and he fell back into the bedsheets.

"So overwhelmed by just a kiss? If you want me to stop, tell me."

If he'd had the power, Yuri would've scoffed, would've told him that he never wanted to stop, never wanted to lose the heat simmering just beneath his skin again. But with his bones feeling like someone had soaked them in acid until they'd turned to rubber, he had no choice other than letting Otabek do as he pleased. 

Warm, dense fog gripped his train of thought, derailing it completely and making him only faintly aware of the deep, sugary voice speaking in some foreign language above him, his body being showered in kisses, fingertips teasing wave after wave of goosebumps out of him as they left his waist in favour of slipping lower, following the narrow line of silvery-golden hair down to his crotch.

Yuri's breath hitched, a brief shock of clarity in his exhausted daze, but he was quickly soothed back into the mattress by an almost tender kiss.

"Don't be afraid. It's fine, Yura. Your body is responding so well, it already knows what it has to do. Just trust me."

His legs had moved on their own volition, falling apart slightly to grant the Alpha access. A soft, prickling pleasure started to spread in his belly, nestling deep into his bones and making them itch from within.

The first touch was like fire - hot and frightening at first, but then Yuri felt his crotch pressing against the Alpha's palm and a groan escaped from his mouth without having been given consent. At first, Otabek just kept his hand there, unmoving, watching as red started to bloom on those pale cheeks, but then he gently slipped one finger into the pliant body of the Omega.

He fleetingly brushed Yuri's cock, earning a soft, breathless gasp in return. Yuri tried to squirm away, the foreign touch rang all his alarm bells, but he couldn't.

As much as he hated it, as much as he loathed it - it felt good. Incredibly so. Groaning, he bucked his hips up, chasing the pleasure of those slender fingers toying him, teasing and taunting, wiping away the slick that slowly started to seep into the mattress. His body was instinctively opening up for the Alpha, his legs spreading even further as a deep, lustful growl reverberated from the muscular chest of the man above him.

"Oh Allah, Yura you're delicious. I can't wait to feel you," Otabek muttered and through the veil of his lashes, Yuri watched as the chocolate brown of his eyes was rapidly swallowed by black.

It didn't bother him anymore. All that counted right now was the hand rhythmically moving against him, the fingers thrusting deep into his body, eliciting a soft stream of whimpers and moans from him, interrupted only by the occasional gasp for air or a breathless _Beka, Beka_ **_please—_**

"Relax," Otabek muttered softly and added a third finger.

He didn't even bother to grant the Omega any reprieve before he lightly gripped Yuri's cock again in time with his fingers curling right into the sweet spot buried deep inside the gorgeous body tensing into his touch on the mattress beneath him.

The reaction was violent and short-lived, just a sharp arch of the Omega's back and a choked outcry while the tremors wrecking through Yuri collapsed into themselves and instead burned him from within as the most overwhelming orgasm.

Slick dripped from him with every contraction of his inner walls that just served to heighten the unfamiliar sensation of the Alpha gently thrusting his fingers deeper to let him ride out the orgasm for as long as it lasted, careful not to hurt him as his insides tensed.

When Otabek finally moved back and away, the warm press of his hand against Yuri's crotch disappeared. The loss tugged a disgruntled little growl from Yuri, but then he felt the exhaustion from the past days washing over him even more insistent than the pleasure before. Sighing, the Alpha leaned over him and left a gentle kiss on his lips.

"It's okay now, rest up. We have all night."

Yuri smiled into the pillow next to him. The Alpha removed his own clothes and slipped under the covers next to him, all the while muttering words in a language Yuri could only label as Kazakh but nothing else. What Otabek was babbling about there he had not the faintest idea, but it was a sweet lullaby. He felt strangely safe here, with such a strong Alpha protecting him from the world for at least a night.

His shoulders shook.

Suddenly, for the first time since Deda had died, hot tears were streaming down his face. He sat up, tore the shirt from his body and shoved it into the mattress next to him. Otabek stared at him in surprise, then his gaze dropped to the tattoos.

And Yuri began to talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Nikolai dies, Yuri and Alyosha attend the funeral, Yuri seeks out Otabek in his hotel room and sets things right between them by explaining the misunderstanding and that he indeed loves Otabek too. They end up in bed and Otabek finds out about Yuri's oskal tattoos.


End file.
